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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946901">Railway to Misfortune</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX/pseuds/XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX'>XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cartoon Therapy (Web Series), Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1930's, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - 1930's, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Asexual Characters, Asexual Logic | Logan Sanders, Character Death, Characters speak different languages, Crime Fiction, Demisexual Deceit | Janus Sanders, Detective Logic | Logan Sanders, First story, Heavy angst sometimes so beware, Homoromantic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Homoromantic Logic | Logan Sanders, Implied homophobia, Just in case it's a tag, Logan is French, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Murder Mystery, OOC Logan?, Pansexual Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Platonic Logan ships, Romantic Logicality is end game, Slow Burn, Train Murder, Translation on the end of chapters, Updated Reguarly, WW1 mentions, War Themes, anxiety disorders, long story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:07:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>59,104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23946901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX/pseuds/XxUnknown_IntrovertsxX</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan Esprit, a private detective working on an unsuccessful case was invited to a train trip around Europe by both his friends Roman and Remus Suenos. An unexpected twist of events however disturbed Logan’s excitement for a holiday when an unfortunate murder occurs inside the train and Logan has to figure out the murderer before everyone, including him, meets the same demise of the victim.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani &amp; Sleep | Remy Sanders, Dr. Emile Picani/Sleep | Remy Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. - Prologue -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Check each chapter for Trigger warnings before reading so be careful if you are by any means affected by them.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(TW: Remus - nothing bad, it’s his existence)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rain was soft when it drizzled through the window panes of the police department. The light was dim, even if it was 17:00 (5 PM) in the evening. A small reading lamp lit up the room in a comfortable warm hue, even if the room was bleak and bare. There was nothing inside the office other than the basic necessities. Work desk, cushioned chair and an ottoman foot rest under the table for the detective to rest his feet and the occasional case files scattered across the messy table.</p><p>The detective himself was sitting on his chair and rested his feet on the ottoman, groaning in frustration as he picked up the telephone on his desk and grumbled in annoyance. He rolled up his black sleeves and adjusted his greyish-blue vest, fiddling with the silky dark blue tie neatly tucked inside. His navy blue suit jacket was long ago discarded on his seat and his black coat was mindlessly placed on a coat hanger near the door to his office. Temporary office, at least.</p><p>He wasn’t planning to stay for long in this office, and the glares given to him by his supervisor also meant he wouldn’t stay in his job any longer than promised. The detective was given little evidence of the crime committed and was meant to arrive at the courthouse tomorrow to give the lack of information for the judge. The many officers of the building he resided in did hardly any work, instead catching low criminals and robberies to avoid the stacks of paperwork the detective was left with.</p><p>Once the case is sent to court and trialled for, he can finally leave the police department and return to his home country, France. He hoped at least, unless his boss decides otherwise. The detective leaned back on his seat while his supervisor yelled at him over the phone, screaming at the illogicalities the detective failed to perform with the little information he had. He sighed, pulling the telephone closer to his ear to speak in his monotone voice.</p><p>“Sir, with the court trial tomorrow and the lack of evidence we’ve found, it’s most likely the trial will be suspended until further notice, at least until the department discovers new information which seems impossible given the time we have left.” He said. The sound of his boss yelling back at him annoyed him further, pinching his nose in frustration when he knew his boss ignored his statement. “Sir, you don’t understand. There’s nothing-”</p><p>“Mr Logan Esprit,” They spat. “Do you even remember why I employed you? You are meant to be the best investigator in France and we wanted the same in England.”</p><p>“I suppose, but sir, you need to understand that-”</p><p>“No buts”. They interrupted. “You are hereby suspended from this case until WE find something you cannot be bothered to look for.”</p><p>Logan picked a pen up from his table and tucked it away in his pocket, stacking up his papers to bring home. The other line was silent as they waited for what Logan should say next. Pulling out a blank piece of parchment to write on, the pen scratched a message Logan wrote before he placed the phone back on the telephone holder. Getting up from his seat and holding the bundles of papers in his arms with the note on top, he grabbed his coat from the coat hanger and turned the lights off the office for good before locking the door for the last time.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“I resign until sufficient work can be made for the case.” Logan said. He placed the note on his employer’s table when he sat down on the chair across from them. Crossing his legs, he leaned back on his seat and smirked when he figuratively saw smoke blowing from their ears. He figured that he should at least bring the papers home, but also requested to not be called in for at least another 6 months so he could work in other cases for his home country. Their eyes fumed with fury and slammed their hand on the table, paper crumpled in their heavy fist.</p><p>“Is this how you repay your efforts to the company?! You turn into a dirty scumbag and do nothing but leave?” They seethed with anger. Logan shook his head again, leaning towards his now ex-boss before speaking again slowly, as if he was talking to a toddler.</p><p>“All these efforts made in the past few months will be futile by tomorrow morning. Do you know what futile means, or do you want me to use a much more simple word instead?” He stood up from his seat and collected his papers again to leave with, leaving his administrator alone with their thoughts. As he closed the door from behind him, he allowed himself to smile when screams and shouts were audible from behind the door. They must’ve ‘blown up’ then.</p><p>-*-</p><p>The apartment room was similar to Logan’s office. The walls were bland, with the only few pictures and clock sitting on the wall as decoration, and his ‘home’ looked boring without anything to personalise the scenery. His bedroom was nothing more than the main rooms, except that it was a cluttered, organised mess that Logan can access anytime while being chaotically coordinated. A telephone - similar to the phone in his old office - was sitting alone in a corner of the room.</p><p>Logan dropped his papers and coat on the table beside his bed and collapsed on the mattress, sinking in the warm blankets and comfy pillows from exhaustion. He wanted to sleep, despite being nearly 19:00 (7:00 PM). He figured he should at least clean his things and organise his belongings if he is leaving soon. Closing his eyes instead for a moment of silence, he huffed before falling asleep. The rain pattering against the window and the sound of it dripping from the pipes comforted him and relaxed from the calm.</p><p>Unfortunately, luck felt too much of a bliss and the telephone rang out instead. Stubbornly staying in bed, he rolled over and muttered curses before deciding to get up to answer instead. Sooner he yelled at the person, the better. Picking up the telephone, he sighed before resting it to his ear, yawning again.</p><p>“Good evening, this is Logan Esprit speaking-”</p><p>“LOGAN, OH MY GOD. YOU’RE FINALLY HOME, YOU GOT NO IDEA HOW MANY TIMES I’VE RANG TO FIND YOU”. The voice shouted from the phone. Logan pulled the phone away and took a deep breath, slowly resting his ear near the phone again before they shouted again.</p><p>“Roman,” he said. “How long have you tried calling me for?” He sighed, his french accent slurring from his tired mind.</p><p>“2 hours, why?” He asked.</p><p>“I was asleep for those 2 hours. It’s 20 hours (9 PM) in London”.</p><p>Roman popped his mouth from realisation, most likely nodding his head in understanding before speaking quietly.</p><p>“That’s why you sound more French than English…” He muttered to himself. “You came home earlier than usual. Did your boss finally get off their high rocker then?”</p><p>Logan blinked. “He was never on a high rocker in the first place-”</p><p>“It’s an expression, Spectacles. I’m asking if he finally went bonkers and fired you.”</p><p>“Oh”. Logan said. “No, he suspended me from the case for the time being and I gave him a notice to not disturb me for 6 months. At least until he found more evidence for the case”.</p><p>A mutual sound of silence washed over the both of them, the line staying silent until one of them spoke again. Roman decided it was his turn to talk.</p><p>“So… With my older sibling magic…” He whispered. Logan rolled his eyes from his attempt of theatrics over the phone. “Whether or not the case was going forward, I was going to kidnap you to come and join me and travel around Europe in Papa’s train line - That way you finally take a bloody break and vacation with us instead.”</p><p>“Roman. If you kidnapped me, I would have to arrest you”.</p><p>Roman scoffed in offence, and Logan can imagine him holding a hand over his chest dramatically. “My best, dear and only friend in this world would arrest me? I’m upset, Logan.” He wailed. Logan twirled the phone cable in his finger and chuckled at Roman’s antics, yawning as he noticed the time being 21:32 (9:32 PM). He didn’t have to contemplate his answer for long, smiling at the thought of meeting Roman or his brother, Remus, again.</p><p>“Roman, I’ll join your invite to the train. You don’t need to ‘kidnap’ me and force me to take a break.”</p><p>An audible shock was heard through the phone as Roman held the phone away from his ear to shout out for someone. A bit of background noise buzzed through and Logan could faintly comprehend what was being said in Roman’s line.</p><p>“APESTOSO HERMANO, APESTOSO HERMANO!” Roman shouted. “LOGAN DIJO QUE SI. ¡EL VIENE CON NOSOTRAS AL TREN!”</p><p>Shuffling sounds and footsteps later, another voice screamed in delight before joining Roman in the room. “¿Está él en el teléfono?” A scruffier, squeaky voice said.</p><p>“Sí, él en el teléfono.”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“LOGAN, YOU’RE NOT DEAD!” The other voice said in delight. Logan nodded to himself before talking again. Remus was surprisingly louder than Roman, and the detective heard the fake excitement through his voice.</p><p>“You just wanted my organs, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah? And?”</p><p>Logan smiled. “Good to hear you again Remus, the both of you.”</p><p>He could feel both brothers beam from the sediment and heard the chatter of their new plan.</p><p>“Okay. We’ve sent you the train ticket beforehand and Papa said that we’re going on a train that doesn’t have any passengers in it. So it’s just you, me and Roman for the entire trip, whale dork-”</p><p>“Oh Christ Remus no, no you work with whales don’t say that-”</p><p>Logan thanked the both of them and told them both that they shall each other in a few days. Placing the phone back in its holster, Logan changed from his suit and tie into striped blue pyjamas and snuggled back inside his bed covers.</p><p>At least he’ll have a good sleep and a holiday to look forward to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><br/>Translation:</p><p>Ro- Stinky Brother, Stinky Brother! Logan said yes, he’s coming with us on the train!<br/>Re- Is he on the telephone?<br/>Ro- Yes, he’s on the telephone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. - Chapter 1 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter 1: (TW: Deceit/Janus)</p><p>Quick edit note: Thought that changing his name from Damien to Janus while the story hasen't properly started would be easier, sorry to those who read this story with Damien's name.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a few days later, and Logan had packed his things beforehand and locked the apartment for the last time. He was given more information about the ‘Europe trip plans’ by mail and he skimmed over the information again before putting the letter aside in his pocket. Walking down the stairs carefully while bringing his belongings, Logan checked out of his apartment room and headed outside, waiting patiently for a car that would take him to the train station. Carrying his brown, quite tattered suitcase, he soon headed for the newly arrived black, private owned car provided to him by the Suenos brothers and told the driver his next destination as he sat waiting until he arrived at the station.</p><p>The interior of the car was different from the usual taxi and silently watched the driver roll up a black-tinted window to separate the sound from both them and Logan. They must’ve wanted to keep the peace and concentrate on the road, not as if Logan didn’t mind. Humming to keep the sound in his side of the car alive, he distracted himself by watching the many brick houses he passed by. </p><p>There were many brick apartment houses and children that lived in them playing outside the Autumn chill. Many children ran around laughing together and a few others did other activities like hopscotch on the footpaths or skipping rope while the driver drove past. Logan softly smiled at the rest of the street kids playing a joint cricket game to keep themselves occupied when their parents were busy working for the day ahead. </p><p>The car rolled around street corners and drove past many house blocks before arriving at the main road into the inner heart of London. It was covered with people walking past various stores and roads, cluttering the footpaths and leaving the roads somewhat empty to drive through. Various middle class citizens stuttered, and richer people stepped out of the horse carriages England supplied as transport compared to the vehicles a few other people used. </p><p>Thankfully, the drive to King’s Cross train station wasn’t as long as he mentally calculated if he walked by foot, but Logan did grow quite impatient waiting inside the car in the busy London traffic. Normally, London traffic would happen if there was some big event or accident since not many people owned cars, favouring their bikes or carriages instead of the rich motor automobile Logan sat on. Many people must’ve crowded around the station entrance, presumably journalists and the public catching whatever news was going on.</p><p>As the car drove closer to the station, Logan sighed when his suspicions were correct. He watched the erupt media attention and public crowd from the car window, and grew frustrated when it took longer to find a place for the driver to safely park the car away from everyone gathered together in the station entrance. Once the driver finally found a spot further from the station entrance, Logan got out of the car and waved the driver goodbye before making his way towards the station by foot instead. </p><p>He felt his legs slowly give in and buckle under his weight when he walked on the footpath towards the station and silently prayed he wouldn’t collapse on the way. The regret for not buying a walking cane grew bigger every step he took, his right leg shaking uncontrollably. Carrying his heavy suitcase, Logan finally found the entrance and took a deep breath before barging through the cluster of people standing in the way. </p><p>It was around 16:00 (4:00 PM) when Logan finally arrived inside the loud, bustling train station, his train ticket and suitcase in his hand. He wasn’t sure who would be strutting around King’s Cross station and he was certain that he didn’t want to be caught in the commotion. They must be big and popular, or even powerful to appear in this station and the last thing Logan wanted was to be on police duty. He is on his ‘vacation’, according to the Suenos brothers and he was grateful for another opportunity to meet them again. With their schedules overloaded like theirs, it was a miracle anyone could catch peace and quiet, let alone seeing each other again.</p><p>Logan strolled around the station while avoiding bumping into other travellers, walking to the platform where the train will stop at. The platform was further from the entrance and he’d curse if his right leg gave in. Jogging -or limping in his case- to the platform instead, he arrived and sat on the nearest bench seat, feeling instant relief of his legs relaxing from the lack of his body weight pushing down. Glancing around the platform, he noticed how empty it was compared to the public outside and travellers crowding the station on other platforms. It was deserted, and if Logan wanted to yell out to anything the walls would bounce from the echoing.  </p><p>Watching the ticking time clock above high on the glass roof, he noted the time being 16:43 (4:43 PM) before his legs were stable enough to move again, or how more people soon entered the platform. They all wore the same uniform, the staff for the Suenos Dreamline Express. Many of the men wore the same grey long-sleeved buttoned shirt with black pants to accompany the dull colour. A few wore dark indigo slacks and the many females employed in the service had poofy black skirts and their white aprons worn with an outline of indigo and purple to paint their monochromatic dress-code. Soon enough the many workers that lived in London filed their way into the place, and Logan glanced at the giant clock again to check the time.</p><p>16:52 (4:52 PM).</p><p>Waiting, he crossed his arms and relaxed again until the train could arrive. Suddenly, a fair weight pushed down the bench seat Logan sat on, and he jumped slightly from the unnoticed company that decided to sit next to him. He first assumed it was one of the workers who he knew, but quickly realised otherwise.</p><p>The new person had a yellow shirt instead of the grey everyone else wore in the platform, as well as a black bow tie and slacks for their black and yellow striped pants. Half their face must’ve been covered in burns and a golden-rimmed monocle was worn that matched their left green discoloured eye. A bowler hat was perched on top of their dark auburn hair with a pocket watch comfortably sitting on his breast-pocket. They were rummaging for something inside their satchel bag with a new, delicate suitcase with easily a better condition than Logan’s worn out bag beside their feet. When they did find a book from their bag however, they quickly turned to Logan with a smile. </p><p>“Hello, are you too boarding the train?” They asked, opening the book to a fresh page. Getting a pen out of their pocket, they started writing notes down as the pen glided on the page. Logan raised an eyebrow in curiosity, intrigued with the stranger. With the lack of other attenders and the platform filled with workers other than the person beside it, it can leave to a safe conclusion. If he’s the only other passenger, then he should at least know more about them first. </p><p>“Yes, Logan Esprit. Male?” He held his hand out to shake for a greeting.</p><p>“Janus Tromperie, also male.” Grinning while shaking his hand. “Did you buy your own ticket as well?”</p><p>Logan blinked, retracting his hand while puffing out the cuffs of his sleeve, shaking his head in the meantime. “I was personally invited by the company.” He said. “How did you buy a ticket, or rather, why?”</p><p>Janus laughed, brushing the question off and held his pen again, writing small notes down. “You can say I’m popular with this company, their star customer.”</p><p>Nodding, Logan looked around again until he heard the chime of the clock ringing the new hour. Picking up his suitcase to hold, he watched Janus writing on the small notebook until the question reappeared in his mind.</p><p>“You still haven’t said why you came though, even if you travel with this service.”</p><p>He leaned close to Logan to whisper in his ear, closing his notebook and stuffed his pen in his pocket.</p><p>“My lips are sealed, sworn to say nothing.” He smirked, “but, I’ve heard there’s something new in this train and I want to experience this opportunity for myself.”</p><p>“Experience? What new experiences would you gain from travelling the train again?” Logan sounded confused. Janus winked at him as an answer. </p><p>Before Logan could ask any further questions, Janus’ eye trailed towards the station entrance. Quickly checking the pocket watch on his person, he soon closed it and prepared his belongings before standing up from his seat. A loud whistle rang throughout the hollow platform and sounds of cluttering wheels came closer to where they both sat. Logan stood up as well, holding his suitcase and joined the gathering crowd of employees readying themselves to step foot on their work for a few weeks.</p><p>The train looked gorgeous. Freshly polished metal with the steam puffing out the exhaustion, the black steam train slowly gathered towards a stop towards the end of the railway track. Indigo streaks similar to the worker’s clothing also outlined the black train’s carriages. A fancy streak of golden writings were decorated outside each carriage, signifying any passenger which carriage they should step on. Small outlines of constellations were printed onto the steel and a glint of silver painted each star. An amazing sight to gaze at, let alone watch it pass by the country land. </p><p>A conductor from the front of the train waved a red handkerchief while grinning, and a man from the back did the same but with green instead. Logan rolled his eyes at the brother’s antics, expecting them to prepare and board the train before Logan could step on it. He saw Roman when he jumped off the train steps and quickly gave him two cheek kisses as a greeting with Roman returning the gesture before strolling inside his assigned carriage. He bidden Janus goodbye when he saw him walking inside a different carriage. Stepping inside, he nodded to a staff member in acknowledgement and allowed them to guide him to his room to stay for the journey as they wandered through the corridors of the train.</p><p>Once guided to his room and given the key, Logan inserted the key and stepped inside to his new stay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. - Chapter 2 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>(TW: Mentions of Remus, Mentions of Deceit/Janus)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Throwing his suitcase on the bed and collapsing on the bed, Logan closed his eyes and felt his body sink into the soft comforter. Matching the theme of the train, his room was quite big for his carriage. He reached inside his pockets and dug out the folded letter again, opening it and eventually skimming through what Roman wrote. There was no surprise that Roman and Remus (collectively, it was a team effort) bought and designed Logan’s room themselves, possibly the most expensive room in this train. He was aware that the train is designed to travel for more than a day, used to drive all around Europe and accommodate their guests in a lifestyle of pleasure and excitement.</p><p>Logan got off his new, comfortable bed and looked around his room. Sure, it was made for only one person but is grand enough to fit another person inside as well as a double room. The curtains were indigo with a purple streak of ribbon and the window outside filled half the wall, with another window to mirror the first. </p><p>A bigger work table was stationed in front of the foot of the bed, and a shelf of books was tucked away in the other side of the room with a blue plaid lounge. Spotting an ottoman with the same pattern, he was grateful of the brother's insight for his feet and tucked it closer to the lounge chairs. He already knew there would be a private bathroom beside the bookshelf and a rack above the entrance door to tuck his suitcase away.   </p><p>He quickly noticed the walls were like a night sky, with the different stars and constellations painted on. Gazing at the art, he decided to look up and his eyes widened in wonder. Small dots painted the roof and he realised that they glow softly with the dark. Walking to the light switch, he watched as the small lights turned on and off in command. The reading lamp beside the lounge chair was turned on while resting on the table beside, and another table was in front of the chairs. Another reading light was placed on his work desk and saw the bed comforter was a darker blue to contrast with the wooden oak of the room. </p><p>He loved it. There was no doubt of his gratitude for both his friends and how he should meet them again later to thank them. For now, the train is still stationed in King’s Cross and hasn't moved yet for its journey around Europe. Looking at the clock, he mentally commented that only 10 minutes have passed and he has plenty of time before everyone is ready for the train to move again. Many footsteps drummed outside his closed door, and he opened his suitcase so he could start packing his things away. According to Remus, the vacation would last more at least 3 weeks, a month at the most. </p><p>Almost finished packing, Logan grabbed a map from the bottom of the suitcase and closed the lid, throwing it up on the rack next to the carriage door. By the time he finished unpacking, the train suddenly jolted forwards and Logan crashed against the wall from the force. It was a loud crash, and the sounds of running footsteps near his carriage meant that somebody heard him. A knock was heard through his hollow door, and he straightened his posture and clothing before unlocking the door to see who was behind it. </p><p>It was another man, but it didn’t look like Roman, Remus or Janus. Instead, he wore a brown suit and a red tie, and held a camera in his hands that was wrapped around his neck. </p><p>“H-hi, I heard a thump a-and assumed it was you? Um, everything is fine, yeah?” The man rubbed his neck while stuttering awkwardly. “I was walking to my carriage until I heard you and thought you crashed into something”.</p><p>Logan brushed his clothing down before offering the man a seat. He pointed to himself when Logan nodded and they both sat next to each other as the train began moving. Soon enough he heard the clicks from the shuttering lens of the camera. Logan glanced at the man and what he was doing before he noticed, smiling sheepishly from being caught.  </p><p>“Sorry, your room looks a lot cooler than mine…”</p><p>“No, no it’s all fine,” Logan said. “You said you have a carriage, yes? Are you a guest in this train?”</p><p>The man blinked, a smile soon gracing his face. “Yeah, I was invited since I know the company manager personally.” He said. He held his hand out to shake, and Logan shook it as a greeting. “I’m Thomas Sanders.”</p><p>“Logan Esprit.”</p><p>“Ahh.... Monsieur Logan Esprit. Is French your native language?”</p><p>“Yes. It’s my first but my second is German and then English.”</p><p>Thomas hummed, glancing at the clock in the wall before getting up to take his leave.</p><p>“It was nice to meet you, Monsieur Logan. Perhaps we see each other at dinner?”</p><p>Logan smiled. “We shall, see you then, Mister Sanders.”</p><p>And from that, he left.</p><p>-*-</p><p>An hour of sleeping later, Logan woke up and checked the clock sitting on the wall. 18:26 (6:26). His stomach growled from the lack of food he ate and decided to get out of the comfy bed to change from his warm pyjamas into a presentable outfit. Satisfied with a black shirt, navy blue pants and slacks, he adjusted his tie before stepping outside his room to meet everyone before dinner. He was given a quick timetable for when food would be served and thought arriving earlier meant he can eat before the others. Hopefully they didn’t mind.</p><p>Walking around the carriages, he distracted his hunger with the sight of the light blue warmth of the hallway and the lights above him emitting a soft hue. Looking outside, the train was travelling past the English countryside, with a vast horizon of green fields and a lack of houses when the sun was setting behind the grassy hills. There were a few trees scattered around the grass, and a small pen filled with animals and tractors replaced the space instead. </p><p>Logan opened the door to the carriage exit and walked through the links between each cabin. When he opened the door to the other carriage, he internally groaned at the distance from where his cabin was compared to the dining carriage. Choosing to study the hallway again, he kept strolling the halls until a door banged against the wall. Startled from the sound, he jogged towards the sound source and blinked when he saw a shorter man sheepishly grinning at him, holding the door carefully before closing it behind him. </p><p>He wore brown, rounded glasses compared to Logan’s jet-black square spectacles and fluffy, light chestnut curls that easily contrasted against Logan’s dark brown hair. Freckles decorated their face, and his grin looked as if it was playful, yet sincere. A white tie was worn with a light blue shirt, and Logan raised his eyebrows when he noticed the smaller man wore his light grey suit jacket tied around his shoulders. He must’ve noticed, because he started rocking back and forth in his feet from embarrassment.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry if I scared you, Sir…” He mumbled, looking down at his feet ashamed. </p><p>“It’s alright. Are you hungry too?” Logan asked. The other bounced in his feet, clapping happily at the suggestion. The now cheerful man’s eyes widened, a bigger smile gracing his face. Soon enough Logan softly smiled too, unable to stop smiling in front of the man, even if he wanted to try against the idea. “You betcha, Mister! My name is Patton and I’m so hungry you got no idea.”</p><p>“Well Patton, I was making my way to the dining cabin if you like to accompany me there?”</p><p>Patton nodded his head vigorously, grabbing Logan’s hand out of instinct and ran into the dining cabin. Logan's face flushed from the sudden contact, never expecting the man to hold his hand and drag him to the others. He felt his legs slowly buckling from his running, but his body felt tingly and warm too. Did he have a fever? In his case, probably. They both kept running. </p><p>They were running too fast for Logan’s eyes to catch a glimpse of the rooms they both passed by. Once they had arrived in the dining room, Logan took a second to catch his breath and processed what happened. He pulled himself together and he looked to the smaller man for any sign of exhaustion. He saw nothing, and somehow this made a warm sensation brush over his face that he brushed off as just an unnecessary feeling flipping in his stomach with a wondrous smile.  </p><p>Both men turned to the crowd of people playing a game of cards, and Logan mentally concluded that it must be everyone that was onboard the train when he realised both him and Patton were late for their early attendance. The idea of Patton and himself being the only ones here in the room instead crossed his mind, and caused him to get that same warm feeling he couldn’t quite describe. It was different than he thought, because he didn’t mind that idea. </p><p>Roman poked his tongue out in concentration as he eyed his poker chips, glaring at Janus when he caught a glimpse of him stealing from Roman. Remus snickered as he watched the both of them play, his chips long disappeared when he impulsively gambled everything on the game. Luckily, they weren’t playing a real game since none of them should be given the chance to gamble with proper money. </p><p>Patton looked on at the group and waved to grab their attention away from the card game. Remus saw them both first and laughed, poking his brother and pointing to the both of them. Soon enough Roman chortled and even Janus chuckled at what they saw. Patton frowned at them all and Logan stood there confused, especially at Remus when he started wheezing, laughing hard at Logan’s baffled expressions.</p><p>“Wha-what’s so funny?” Patton asked, disappointment laced in his voice. Remus instead pointed to Logan’s confusion and pink-tinged cheeks, with Roman holding his breath when tears appeared from his eyes. Logan pointed to himself again, puzzled from their unexplained humour. Janus shook his head while laughing before whacking Remus’ hand down, instead pointing at their conjoined hands. Roman howled, waved his hands to cool his heated face. Neither brothers saw Logan’s face so pink from blushing. </p><p>“R-Roman,” Remus wheezed, coughing out his laughter before he could speak again. “Te lo dije cuatro ojos personas imaginadas, entonces me debes tu $50.”</p><p>Roman flicked his forehead, crossing his arms from his new defeat. Poking his tongue out rudely towards his brother, he turned his head away from him while huffing. </p><p>“Todo lo que tenía que hacer fue dime le gustaba una chica o algo y podría haber los estúpidos apuesta 15 años. iLogan, deberías haber le gustaba una chica y me gano dinero extra!” He whined. </p><p>“Pero no lo hizo aunque.” Remus cheered. Roman slid him $50 and grumbled, neither of them caring if nobody understood what they’re saying. Roman sighed, glancing at his friend before nodding solemnly. </p><p>“No, no el no. Pero, como sus amigos los amaremos de todas formas.” </p><p>They both nodded from their small mutual agreement. Roman gave Logan a thumbs up and Remus an inappropriate gesture instead. Patton tilted his head at the gestures and shrugged, letting go of Logan’s hand and waddled to the group playing poker, leaving Logan standing behind in the doorway. He took a deep breath, attempting to unblush his face before sitting in between both Roman and Remus, across from Janus and Patton. Logan fiddled with his tie, distracting himself from the company he sat with, flustered with his abrupt behaviour. </p><p>Patton shuffled the cards, and soon dealt them with his own hand of poker chips to play with, wondering how good the players were.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translation:</p><p>Re- I told you four eyes fancied people, so you owe me your $50<br/>Ro- All he had to do was tell me he liked a girl or something and I could’ve won the stupid 15 year old bet. Logan, you’ve should've liked a girl and won me extra money!<br/>Re- But he didn’t though<br/>Ro- No, no he didn’t. But, as his friends we will love him anyway</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. - Chapter 3 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Remus, Deceit/Janus, Patton angst, implied homophobia - screw you 1930’s</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, news in the end of this chapter so watch out for that. Enjoy the chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Safe to say, poker became a mess.</p><p>Dinner was meant to be ready by 20:00 (8 PM) so everyone had time to kill before they could eat. Logan joined the game when everyone decided that restarting the dealing was a good idea and checked to see if everyone was ready to play. He did notice however that Thomas’ presence wasn’t mentioned or seen throughout the game, and Logan thought of Thomas either sleeping in his cabin room or taking photos of the train. His mind was trained throughout the entire game, and in a summary the game ended in a few surprises.</p><p>Both Roman and Remus decided to team up with each other - apparently it meant better chances of winning ‘riches’, according to Roman’s logic- during mid-game. They both worked together for a while, until Remus went ‘all or nothing’ with their chips and lost the game for both him and his teammate. That was to nobody’s surprise.</p><p>The second surprise is when Janus lost his game. Everyone mostly expected their new guest, Patton, to lose the poker game as he was always overly emotionally expressive. Janus stole most of the brother’s poker chips when neither weren’t looking, but neither Patton or Logan stopped him as it made the game much more interesting to play for. It was slow, and it did take a while for Janus to lose, but all his chips were eventually given to both Logan and Patton respectively throughout his game.</p><p>Sometimes the group were given food to munch on, and both Logan and Patton invited this opportunity throughout the game to satisfy their stomach’s needs. The game still continued with both Logan and Patton playing against each other, and Logan’s chip stack decreasing whilst Patton’s growing ever-so-slowly. It lasted longer than Janus’ game, and soon enough the bystanders eventually got bored from watching the both battle against each other.</p><p>Janus sat next to Remus, writing on his notepad with Roman sitting on the other side of his brother drawing on a sketchbook. They both could feel Remus’ jittering energy, his body shaking for something to do to pass the time before dinner can be served. The time on the train quickly chimed to signify the dinner time, and Remus instantly shot up from his seat and ran to the table where food can be served. Logan and Patton watched along in confusion until Janus got his pocket watch out, tapping on the clock face to signify how long the game lasted. Both placing their cards faced down, Patton stood up from his seat and grabbed Logan’s hand again while ignoring his reddening face again.</p><p>“Do you wanna sit together for dinner?” Patton asked sweetly while walking towards the reserved table they would be eating at. The other three sat down, Roman and Janus tucking a napkin on their lap before Remus jumped on his seat. Logan and Patton followed suit and prepared themselves before the food was served to them.</p><p>“Janus, are you waiting for the new menus?” Remus asked, licking his mouth while eyeing the kitchen door. Janus smiled, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before looking towards Remus again.</p><p>“You know I love your food. Besides, I heard there's a new cake and I want to experience that for myself too you know.”</p><p>Logan blinked from what he said, looking at Janus. “Wait, that’s what you meant by ‘new experiences’? It’s cake the entire time?”</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>But, I’ve heard there’s something new in this train and I want to experience this opportunity for myself.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p>“I’m no commoner, Logan,” he smirked, adjusting his new yellow gloves before he could eat. “This is the first time this train travels around Europe, but I was told to keep it a secret before it opens for everyone. Rooms and everything.”</p><p>Logan conceded, satisfied with the answer he was given. The wait didn’t last long as a waitress came out of the kitchen, rolling a trolley with her with the food she would serve. Everyone stared at their plates, the food sitting happily on top. Remus snatched the plate from the trolley before the waitress could serve it for him and immediately gobbled the feast down in front of him. Roman whispered an apology to the waitress and waited for his food like everyone else who attended the dinner.</p><p>Patton spotted an empty chair beside Logan, and hummed to himself before he could ask.</p><p>“Guys, is there supposed to be another person attending the dinner?” He chuckled nervously. Logan glanced beside him at the empty chair, with everyone only now noticing the missing person. Remus licked his plate, wiping his dirty hands on his tattered clothing and giving the disturbed waitress his plate. Janus shrugged as Roman looked around the cabin.</p><p>“What other guest?” Remus burped, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve. Logan blinked from his answer, tilting his head as a response.</p><p>“His name is Thomas. Your father didn’t tell you?”</p><p>Both the brothers looked at each other, confused by the question.</p><p>“Sorry Logan, we don’t know a person named Thomas.” Roman said as Remus nodded in agreement.</p><p>“We weren’t told of a Thomas, and it’s not like papa to keep secrets from us.” His voice squeaked. Contemplating his thoughts, Logan adjusted his glasses and readied himself for the main course when a different waiter travelled around to their round table. He made a mental note to check on Thomas later and ate as the table resumed into different conversations whilst they ate.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“So, hang on,” Patton gulped his food down as he spoke to Logan, cutting his apple strudel as he hummed from the flavours. “You’re French?”</p><p>Logan took a bite of his Lemon tart. “Oui, Est-ce que vous parlez Français?” His accent flowed through his tongue.</p><p>Patton shrugged, glancing back to him instead. “Je peux, mais de petites conversations.”</p><p>“C’est bien. Est-ce que vous autre des langues?”</p><p>Janus’ eyes lit up while trying out the new styled chocolate cake, pointing his fork at Logan. “Vous ne dit pas que vous parlez Français!”</p><p>“Tu ne dit pas n’importe et il n’est jamais” He retorted. They both smirked to each other, and Janus spoke again.</p><p>“Enfin, quelqu’un d'autre qui parle Français.”</p><p>They both talked soon afterwards, Patton glancing at the both of them whenever someone spoke. His heart deflated when he realised that Logan wouldn’t speak to him again and frowned from the prospect.</p><p>“Mais je peux aussi parler German, et…” He mumbled, returning to his apple strudel instead. It didn’t taste as joyful as it did before, and sighed before deciding to stand up from his seat. Taking the napkins off his neck and lap, he folded it on the plate and placed his utensils away to pick up and give to the waitress waiting for all of them to finish.</p><p>“I have finished my dessert, and I’ve decided to sleep instead.” Patton said. He waved them all goodbye and left the group, venturing to his cabin room alone, unlike how he arrived at dinner.</p><p>-*-</p><p>Logan left the dinner table smiling after staying a few hours when Patton left the group. He asked Janus the time earlier and kept in mind that it was well after midnight, but he still remembered to do something before going to his own room to rest. Holding a plate of baked potatoes and roasted lamb, he also kept a bottle of expensive wine under his arm as he wandered to Thomas’ carriage.</p><p>Squinting in the dark corridor, Logan continued his walk towards the several other carriages and stared long at the room numbers that had the passenger's name noted temporarily during the trip. Soon enough he passed everyone’s roomstays, and concluded that Thomas must be staying in the last carriage. Trekking along, Logan hummed while keeping himself mindful during the silence, the only other sound accompanying him is the railway tracks outside.</p><p>Footsteps were close when Logan arrived at what he assumed was Thomas’ cabin, and instinctively froze from the sound. He stopped walking and heard the footsteps slowly growing louder as they came by closer towards him. Holding the dinner on one hand, Logan reached out slowly to his gun holster as he leaned into a carriage door, his hand hovering over his pistol.</p><p>Suddenly he yelped and fell backwards when he felt the door open from behind him, collapsing onto the ground. Groaning, he closed his eyes from the sudden light and slowly opened them, blinking quickly at who he saw. He recognised the man above him immediately, and scrambled off the ground when he saw the black coal dust under his eyes and the black hair flopping over his face.</p><p>“Oh, Virgil, it was only you.” He huffed.</p><p>“Only me now?” Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “I expected a scream from you to be honest, but a yelp would work.”</p><p>Logan chuckled, picking up the lucky wine bottle and food from the ground. “As if anyone would believe you.”</p><p>Virgil smiled, helping Logan pick the food scraps off the ground. “It’s good to see you again, Logan.”</p><p>“You too, Virgil. It has been a while.”</p><p>Silence fell over the both of them, the men preferring the quiet regardless of their loud, boisterous friends.</p><p>“How is it working as a train engineer? Roman was happy when he found out you got the job you know.” Logan smirked, still remembering the scream Roman made when his papa said Virgil got the job for the company.</p><p>“Eh, I could get a higher pay though. At least compared to you, Monsieur detective.”</p><p>Logan frowned, standing up when he held the dirty plate of food that was meant for Thomas. “How come you never went to dinner today?” He asked. Virgil shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his patched-up sweater. Shuffling his feet, he looked down while keeping himself distracted.</p><p>“I didn’t want to eat around people, especially with him…” Virgil mumbled the last part to himself, but Logan understood his intentions regardless.</p><p>“Would you like me to bring food for you whenever we finish eating?” Logan asked. Virgil’s mouth opened to a soft smile, and bowed his head to him quickly before looking at Logan again.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll like that if you don’t mind.”</p><p>Virgil held the door open for Logan when he approached the exit. They both waved to each other, and Logan grabbed the wine bottle from under his arm to give to Virgil instead.</p><p>“I’ll try again tomorrow when it’s not early in the morning, but I think you’ll benefit from a few drinks or two whenever you’re not working.”</p><p>Holding the bottle in his hands, Virgil nodded again and saw Logan when he walked outside his door. Logan walked out and saw someone leaning against the wall from Virgil’s cabin, getting their gun out in instinct and pointed it towards the man outside. The other screamed from fright and spoke quickly, pleading to Logan.</p><p>“OH MI DIOS LOGAN PONGA LA ARMA LO JURO A DIOS SI TIENES EL ARMA MALDITA QUE DESEAS NO VIVIR CUANDO TE ACUESTO CON MI ESPADA HERMOSA Y SMITE-”</p><p>Virgil stifled his laughter when he saw Roman begging for his life while a spark of amusement appeared in Logan’s face. They both rolled their eyes at the same time when the dramatic mess started yelling insults to Logan’s face, eventually leaving Virgil to close his door and both Logan and Roman leaving for bed. Soon Roman gasped when he realised Logan wasn’t listening to him when he switched to English, and crossed his arms when he mumbled to himself instead.</p><p>“Do you mind telling me why you were waiting outside Virgil’s door?” Logan asked, raising his eyebrows at the royal figure strutting beside him. Grabbing the plate off his hands, Roman continued walking before looking away bashfully. Logan kept silent, as it was rare for Roman to feel embarrassed by anything he did. Here he was however, waiting for Roman to speak of his excuse before they both depart.</p><p>“I went to check on the ‘mysterious Thomas’ you mentioned from dinner and I never saw his carriage, so I heard footsteps when I was walking back from the end of the train and came across Virgil’s room… I heard you both, and decided to wait.”</p><p>“And?” Logan suspected.</p><p>“And I wanted to see Virgil again…” He mumbled.</p><p>Logan looked outside to the window, grabbing Roman’s suit jacket and prompted him to do the same. The Dreamline train passed by a town this time, with several houses and pubs sped past. Stars decorated the night sky, and Logan sunk into the wondrous sight. Roman did the same, and after both feeling calm and relaxed Logan decided to speak again.</p><p>“Amigo to Amigo, Roman, I can see that you liked Virgil more than you like me as your dear friend. Wouldn’t you usually say ‘te amo’ to someone you liked?”</p><p>Roman found himself blushing, and smirked when a thought crossed from his mind.</p><p>“And wouldn’t you say ‘je t’aime’ to someone you like?” He smirked, chuckling dryly. Shaking his head at Logan’s now red-tomato face, he patted his friends’ back and began walking off to the dining cabin to return the plate meant for Thomas. Checking the carriage halls to ensure nobody is around, Roman looked at Logan again when his face was less red than when he made the comment.</p><p>“We both know it's illegal for us to… like what we feel, yeah?” Roman questioned vaguely, and Logan felt his blood running cold. He stared at Roman, slowly feeling the fear of something happening to either of them. He couldn’t tell anyone, mustn’t even, the punishments, the crimes, the-</p><p>“Logan? Logan, hey buddy, mi amigo…” Roman walked closer to Logan, pulling the shorter man into a hug. Shaking and his chest tightening from every breath he took, he clutched on Roman like a lifeline and hid his face on the crook of his neck. Images of what could happen crossed his mind, if Roman told anyone or even used it for blackmail unsettled him. He’s already hiding one thing, and he couldn’t bear it if someone knew something about him that can lead to danger. Roman soothed him by combing his hand through his hair, mumbling out soft words to him while rocking side to side.</p><p>“I’m not going to tell anybody, both you and I are the same. I’ve seen you before with him, your face pink and blushy. Remus and I never saw it before, and we feel you hide your feelings in fear someone hurts you. You were happy, Logan, and both Remus and I accept you.” He sniffed. “Besides, you and I share the same feelings for someone, we’re okay to feel these things, Logan. It’s okay, we’re both safe as long as we keep this secret between us.”</p><p>“You accept me, but you both were laughing earlier… Why?” He asked.</p><p>Roman smirked, ruffling his well-kept hair. “We never saw you blush that hard before, and the goofy smile you had for him was too good to ignore. I do apologise, for myself, Remus and Janus if you felt belittled. We never meant to.”</p><p>Logan nodded, gripping harder while sniffling. He looked up at Roman and wobbled, his eyes glossy and face slowly wet from the abrupt tears. Since when did he start crying? He never cried, maybe a few times, but never from an emotional thought. Never once did he feel anything this strong, the feeling sparking a few times but ignored it whenever it appeared - but this feeling, this feeling didn’t want to leave and he found himself wanting it to stay. Roman must’ve understood, because he felt small droplets of tears in his hair.</p><p>“I’ve never felt this before Roman... once or twice when it was small but never was it this big, I-”</p><p>“You’re scared?” Roman released Logan from the hug, his smile wobbling when he saw his friend. His own chest felt tight when Logan nodded, and instead nuzzled his face into the shorter friend as a different form of comfort. He internally cheered with pride when he felt Logan calming down.</p><p>“I think we should both sleep and keep this between us, yes? I’ll return the plate as I’m allowed in the kitchen and you better sleep.”</p><p>Logan chuckled, bidding Roman goodbye while drying the tears from his face. He didn’t know how, but he felt happier than he expected to be. Maybe talking to Roman unlocked something he kept hidden for so long, and maybe Roman was right. The little flutter in his heart beated when he thought of himself smiling with Patton, and soon enough he smiled too. There was something about Patton he couldn’t describe about anyone else he met. Maybe he could let this feeling stay.</p><p>After all, he felt happy… he felt happy.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, author here;</p><p>This is the longest chapter so far and while writing this story, another story is in the process of writing :)<br/>So while we have this story, there might be another to lean towards the canon character behaviours than this story - which had to be more OOC in order to make the time period more realistic (hopefully you guys didn't mind much).<br/>That's the news I guess, lol, enjoy the story (no, this story will still continue with its schedule so don't worry much about that. If there was any necessary news I'll add it in the end of chapters but that's about it-) :)</p><p>Translation:</p><p>L: Yes, do you speak French?<br/>P: I can, but for small conversations.<br/>L: Do you speak other languages?</p><p>J: You never said that you spoke French!<br/>L: You never said anything and it never came up.<br/>J: Finally, someone else who speaks French.<br/>P: But I also speak German and…<br/>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Ro: OH MY GOD LOGAN PUT THE GUN DOWN I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SHOOT THE DAMN WEAPON YOU’D WISH YOU DIDN’T LIVE WHEN I HAUNT YOU WITH THE BEAUTIFUL SWORD GOD WILL GIVE ME TO SMITE YOU WITH-</p><p>Je t’aime and te amo = I love you</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. - Chapter 4 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Death, murder, angst, screaming, bullets, blood, anxiety attack, crying, dead body and possibly a few more relating to the warnings - have fun and stay safe</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author notes in the end of the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As per Roman’s request, Logan prepared himself for bed and hopefully have a few hours of sleep before breakfast started. The clock sitting on the wall ticked, its face reminding Logan of the time. 1:58. Getting on his bed, his head felt the soft pillows and his body fell into a light slumber.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“Don’t worry, Remy, I’ll bring the food to Thomas, okay?” A shorter man said, already wrapping an apron around himself and holding a plate of food.</p><p>“Emile, babe, lemme come with you at least.” Remy whined, already jogging up to him. As soon as he reached his friend and left the kitchen behind, a scream was heard from inside and a shatter of a plate echoed through the door. Wincing from the noise, Emile placed his hand in his hips and Remy huffed, returning inside the kitchen to maintain the lack of order. As head chef and coordinator for the kitchen, he sighed before returning, cleaning the mess his workers managed to create in less than a minute. Emile snorted at the shenanigans, only visiting the kitchen for Remy and volunteering to give the plate of food Thomas missed the night before.</p><p>“I’ll see you later, Rems” Emile called out to him and skipped to Thomas’ carriage.</p><p>Everyone knew Thomas, and everyone loved him. The photographer was the nicest and most kindest man, and everyone trusted him with their lives whilst Thomas was the same. All the workers in the train were told to keep distance from Thomas, but Emile wanted to see a friend again. So, he volunteered to see him and bring the food he missed out from earlier, holding a plate of a full English breakfast. Fried tomatoes, bacon, eggs and toast were on one side of the plate, baked beans, black pudding and mushrooms on the other side. His stomach growled from the smell, the bacon already filling his mind.</p><p>Emile stepped into Thomas’ carriage, humming a tune while roaming through the corridors. Arriving at Thomas' door, he knocked 3 times in a cheery tune. Happily standing from behind, he swayed side by side before knocking again. Maybe Thomas was asleep, and Emile didn’t want his food going cold either. It looked too good to pass, and his friend had to at least eat something.</p><p>“Thomathy? Your food is going to go cold. At least let me in.” He chirped, knocking again for good measure. A few seconds passed, and Emile rested his ear next to the door to hear any movement on the other side. To know if Thomas was still snoring, or if there was any rummaging from the other side. He frowned when he heard neither, and he knew Thomas was a loud snorer from the past few times he went on the train adventures with both him and Remy.</p><p>“Thomas?”</p><p>He jiggled the doorknob for good measure, and froze when it was unlocked. He debated whether or not he could enter, but soon decided that he could enter and place the breakfast on the table and come back at a better time. It was a shame though, he really wanted to see Thomas again, even for a brief moment. Entering the room, he called out his name once more for good measure before resting his eyes on the scene in front of him. The plate full of breakfast was smashed on the ground, his shock painted on his face.</p><p>Sure, his room was a little messy, but it wasn’t what disturbed him. The dead body however, that’s a killer. There was so much blood that swam around his friend’s body, his eyes closed as if he already knew he would die. Thomas… his skin looked cold and pale, and Emile’s tears flooded quickly at the sight. He couldn’t breathe, his entire body shaking before he collapsed on the ground. All his thoughts swam inside his mind, and he couldn’t get the image of his body out of his head. Soon enough sweat was dripping from his fingers and he realised himself he was hyperventilating.</p><p>He screamed as loud as he could, hoping someone could hear him.</p><p>-*-</p><p>Logan woke up abruptly from a loud, shrilling scream. It sounded as if it was nearby his own room, and so he vaulted out of bed and ran as fast as he could to the sound. In his pyjamas, he sped through the cramped corridors and bumped on the walls a few times, realising that his glasses were still in his room. Everything was blurry and he didn’t care. It was as if someone was in danger, or hurt in a different carriage. By the time he made it to the sound source, he could faintly make out a blurry figure standing in front of him. They wore green boxers, presumably did the same thing as Logan and jumped out of bed as quickly as possible.</p><p>“Remus?” Logan said, holding his arm out to find where Remus was standing. Remus grabbed his arm for him and slowly dragged him to where he was standing, sniggering at the sight of Logan. He didn’t wear boxers, but he looked like an old person when he squinted without his glasses. Messy hair replaced the well-kept style he wore, and the small yellow stars and white fluffy clouds painted on his pyjamas looked more childish than Logan would usually wear.</p><p>“Not a word.” He grumbled, quickly tidying his hair. “Remus, where did the scream come from?” He asked. Remus escorted Logan to Thomas’ carriage, opening the door for him. The stench of something dead overflowed both their senses and they instinctively gagged, not even Remus enjoyed it. Emile was still crying on the floor, screaming and shaking in his panic. Virgil was sitting beside him, calming him down from his uncontrollable breathing. Logan could make out Emile’s brown sweater he usually wore during work, and Virgil’s tattered overalls that were patched together with the same fabric as his nightly sweater.</p><p>“Is everything alright with Emile?” Logan asked, already friendly with Emile from the few times he met him on his past travels. Emile sniffled before screaming again, the images getting too much for him to describe. Virgil hummed to him softly, holding his hand over where his heart beated to attempt an even-breathing pattern. He had to focus on his co-worker and friend first, but even he is suppressing the inward panic bubbling inside him from the dead body looking lifelessly across from him.</p><p>“Logan, are you seriously that blind you cannot see the dead body in front of you?” Remus asked, pointing obviously at the body. Logan’s body stiffened from the question, attempting to look up at Remus instead.</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“The. Dead. Body.” He said. Another wave of the stench brushed past their noses, and Logan could’ve vomited where he stood.</p><p>“No, that would explain the smell.” He gagged. Heavy footsteps stomped towards the crime scene, Roman checking what the early commotion was.</p><p>“Guys, it’s nearly 5 in the morning, what are you all-” Roman asked before looking at the dead body, eyes waking up before shrieking from fright. Everyone shushed him, but Emile’s chilling howl was heard once more as he kept crying. He almost puked from the smell, and ran in the opposite direction.</p><p>“Dolor real, i¿A dónde vas?!” Remus shouted, attempting to get Roman’s attention. Logan glanced to Virgil and saw him getting up from where Emile sat and gently closed the door to block the brother’s yelling. The cries inside were still loud, but they grew softer when Emile might’ve realised neither men stared at them in the doorway.</p><p>“¿Qué piensas estoy haciendo? iEstoy encontra Remy!” Roman yelled, already leaving the carriage to venture in the kitchens.</p><p>Leaving Roman to find Remy, Logan was already walking away until Remus grabbed his shoulder, leaning to his ear.</p><p>“And where do you think you’re going?” He purred. Swatting his hand away, Logan glanced back at him, squinting when the image of him got blurrier.</p><p>“I’m getting changed into my day clothes, and finding my glasses.”</p><p>-*-</p><p>With glasses on and a more appropriate outfit, Logan walked back to the crime scene with his trusty coat, notebook and gun hiding inside his coat. Although he was on vacation, he was also a police detective and unfortunately this meant that he had to work. Other equipment was hidden in his person, figuring that he would be a very compelling target if the murderer found out he was a detective in the first place. Arriving at the scene, Logan began investigating.</p><p>The room was mostly messy, and he didn’t imagine Thomas being a clean person regardless. The body was still left on the ground, but Virgil assured that the smell would not flow to the rest of the train as long as the door was kept closed and the window opened whenever the door had to be opened for whatever reason. There was no sign of struggle, and when Logan looked at the body, he thought of a few things.</p><p>Thomas still wore the outfit he had when they both met and his camera was perched on a table beside him. He checked if he took any pictures of the murderer, but found nothing. Picking it up, he held the camera and wrapped the strap around his neck. It would be a good idea to take pictures of the crime scene, and so a few snapshots were made around the crime scene. Logan concluded that Thomas must’ve arrived in his room after meeting Logan and resided in the place until possibly dinner. An unsettling feeling bubbled inside, the feeling that Logan must’ve been the last person to ever see him last.</p><p>The empty body laid lifelessly, in the position of where Emile found it first. It was a good thing Emile never touched or moved the body, but the consequences of how he found it didn’t make the situation any better. He is with Virgil and Remy for the time being, but he should probably check on him later. Wearing his white, pristine gloves, Logan brushed the hair off Thomas’ face and checked for any stab or bullet wounds.</p><p>The blood pooled from his body and Logan discovered the bullet wounds that decorated his body in four different places. There were two other bullet shots located in the walls, and Logan concluded that the murderer must’ve not had the best aim, or that Thomas ran around his room which made the mess in the first place. Logan opened his coat to grab a chalk box, drawing the outline of Thomas’ body before leaving it alone for the time being, taking the last photo shots of the room and the victim’s body.</p><p>-*-</p><p>Logan wrote his investigations on a small notepad, sitting in a room where everyone was called individually by Remus to notify the passengers of the murder. He looked weirdly calm about the whole ordeal, and even when he saw the body he looked unfazed. Roman was sitting beside Remy who had tears under his shady glasses, hugging the startled Emile and Virgil sitting on the other side, hiding his face from behind while finally feeling the effects of his own moment of grief. The sight of the dead body disturbed Virgil, and suppressing his feelings for this long already shows its consequences. Patton and Janus sat beside each other. Janus looked shocked by the news, and Patton turned away from the group, leaving his mind to process what happened.</p><p>
  <em>- 26th October, 1930</em>
  <br/>
  <em>- Time when body was discovered - 04:46</em>
  <br/>
  <em>- Approximate time of death - unknown</em>
  <br/>
  <em>- Cause of death - 4 bullet wounds pierced through the body.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>- Notes: 2 bullet piercings in the walls, messy bedroom - sign of escape from murderer? Possibly has seen the murderer last.</em>
</p><p>Logan tapped his pen in thought, thinking of the murder. Sure, he could already have a foresight of how the crime happened, and a few theories accompanied them. Whether Thomas answered the door and saw the murderer, running back before he was shot. Or maybe the door was unlocked in the first place, and the murderer shot aimlessly. He didn’t know if the mess was from the crime or because he was always messy, and he hardly knew anything about the victim other than he was possibly a photographer. No motive, clear picture, or sound theory yet. Perhaps he had to do a bit of interrogation, and subtly investigate Patton and Janus without raising suspicions that he is a detective, in case he might be murdered next.</p><p>Both men sat uncomfortably next to each other, Patton especially. Whenever he saw Patton, he didn’t look as bubbly or joyful as he first met him, but instead wore a frown and turned away from Logan, ignoring him instead. A small pang shot through Logan whenever he did ignore him, and he couldn’t exactly place the reason why. Remus kept speaking about Thomas, and moved on to giving him condolences instead. Maybe Logan should ask Remus first about the murder, being the least impacted by the scene and the first person Logan saw that morning.</p><p>Everyone sat silent in their seats after they heard everything given to them by Remus, and Logan stood up for the given opportunity.</p><p>“Remus, shall we talk outside?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, author here. Nothing too grand, but this story will now have two people working on the story. Myself, and an editor. They existed for a little bit and didn't want to appear for a while, but since the publication they've decided to appear and write the story with me. We both co-exist in Wattpad and we felt introducing them to you guys as well. If anything happened (like being unable to publish a story on the schedule), they would take care for the account for me as we both have a feeling it'll happen at some point in the future. </p><p>Thank you for reading the news, and we'll see you again next week.</p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Translation:</p><p>Re: Royal pain, where are you going?<br/>Ro: What do you think I’m doing? I’m finding Remy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. - Chapter 5 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Remus, heavier angst (yes I'm adding this as a warning as it is a little heavier than the last chapter), gun shots, blood, mention of character death, past death, trauma, inappropriate/seductive attempts - will have asterisks (*) before it starts if nobody likes it.</p><p>Be careful, and stay safe-</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Didn't realise how angsty this chapter was until my editor pointed it out so I'm just-</p><p>Read the warnings basically lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Remus followed Logan outside the dining cabin where everyone sat silent, processing the information given to them. Closing the door behind them, Logan led Remus to a small corner where the both can talk to each other. Holding a pen in one hand and his notebook on the other, Logan quickly flipped to a fresh page and wrote Remus’ information down since he is now a ‘witness’ to the murder. Scribbling down his thoughts, Remus leaned towards Logan’s book and raised an eyebrow in suspicion.</p><p>*“Do you suspect me as the murderer?” He asked. Logan ignored his question, still writing down his information until he felt something tugged from his neck. Looking up to Remus, his mouth curled into a grin, pulling him closer until their noses touched.</p><p>“Logan, mi amigo, my first and bestest friend…” he purred, “Are you saying little ol’ me would kill someone I didn’t know?” His hand curled on his tie, and slowly pulled him closer. Warning bells rang inside Logan’s mind, and Remus soon held his other hand when Logan attempted to push him off. He knew he wasn’t physically strong compared to Remus, and the idea of anyone seeing this filled him with worry. Cringing inwardly at the situation, Logan squirmed uncomfortably.</p><p>“Remus,” he hissed, “Don't do this, what if others saw this and took this the other way?”</p><p>“What way do you want them to think of, Logan?”</p><p>“The one way which doesn’t look gross or disturbing perhaps?”</p><p>Remus hummed in thought before leaning back from Logan, still holding his tie. “You think seduction is disturbing? Since when?”</p><p>“Since a friend of mine tried hitting on me? I think this is ‘hitting on’ anyway,” He said. “Remus, is this a tactic you use whenever you want or is it if you’re hypothetically accused for murder?”</p><p>He blinked, letting go of his tie and backing away from him in confusion. “You don’t know what hitting on someone is? Has nobody tried on you before?” He changed the topic swiftly, finding his friend’s lack of interest more intriguing than being accused for the crime.</p><p>“I read vaguely in stories that included romantic subplots and had witnesses who think they can get away with murder. Nothing happens as a result though,” He explained. “Is that normal or am I missing out on something?” He asked.* Remus shook his head, tugging on his hair as he sighed. Thinking of something else, he glanced back at his smaller friend.</p><p>“Logan, do you really, seriously expect me as a murderer?” his voice soft, filled with worry. “I might be a madman sometimes. but I don’t kill for fun. That’s why I have sketchbooks to draw them out instead,” He distracted his hurt thoughts by playing with his shirt collar, his shorter friend looking up at him with worry. Writing down the last comment quickly, Logan sighed before closing his book, careful for what he’s going to say.</p><p>“I’m not saying you’re the murderer, but a ‘witness’ instead…” He said carefully. Remus shuffled his feet, furrowing his eyes like a child being caught.</p><p>“What did you want to ask?”</p><p>Logan cleared his throat, tapping his pen against the hardback book cover in thought. “How come you weren’t as unsettled as everyone else when you saw the dead body? Or as distressed when you told the news about it?” He knew it might’ve been more of a personal question, but he remembered that most, all motives even, include personal connections to themselves or the victim. Remus might’ve not committed the crime through personal reasons, but for a different cause. The question must’ve struck something within Remus as he froze in thought, glancing away from his friend.</p><p>“I-I don’t want to talk about it. I know you’re a detective, but you would respect that decision as your buddy?” He almost pleaded, and Logan nodded before bowing his head, apologising for the insensitive question. Instead, Logan brought him back to his cabin room to use a different trust system. He might not be ready to talk or trust Logan with any information yet, and he thought maybe something else can distract him. A conversation.</p><p>Opening the door to his cabin, Remus opened his mouth to say something about the situation. Logan thought he knew what the question would be, and internally prepared himself for the intrusive comment Remus was going to make.</p><p>(He’s going to pull something else off like earlier, lord please don’t make that happen again…)</p><p>What he didn’t expect however, was Remus to walk towards his bed, admiring his temporary room.</p><p>“Do you like your room?” He asked. Logan raised an eyebrow from the question and Remus smiled to himself. “I made it myself, thinking you’ll like the different things I added in here,”</p><p>Humming, Logan joined Remus, sitting beside him on his bed. Internally grateful for Remus’ impulsive control, he nestled closer to his friend. “I do like my room, a lot actually,”</p><p>Praise welled inside Remus, a bigger, gracious smile appearing on his face.</p><p>Knowing Remus didn’t enjoy silence, Logan sat waiting for Remus to begin chatting so he could spark a conversation for the both of them. Neither of them minded any topic, so it meant that Remus spoke about nearly anything and everything (nearly, because he now discovered Logan’s opinion of sexual discussions, and didn’t mind if a friend of his was uncomfortable with the idea). Looking at Logan’s leg, he figured it was probably a safe discussion to talk about. Remus bumped his leg on Logan’s stiff limb.</p><p>“How’s your leg? Does it need any improvements or fixtures while I’m here?” He asked. Logan shook his head.</p><p>“It might need some oil on the bolts, but I loved your new feature for it, Remus,” He beamed. To show him, Logan rolled up his left wooden leg, and bent it as a demonstration before standing straight for it to easily support his body weight. “I can walk and stand for longer periods, but walking or running for a long distance can easily collapse the leg,”</p><p>Remus thought while stroking his chin, studying his own wood making masterpiece. Working in wood as a hobby, Remus held his arms out for Logan to give him his wooden leg, and inspected it in a closer view. Different pictures of anatomy and building designs crossed through his mind, internally grateful for Logan giving him a different distraction from the death he witnessed. Bending the joints together, Remus held onto the wooden project before looking back at Logan.</p><p>“I asked Papa if I was allowed to have some of my woodman's equipment in my room when I saw you again so I could build modifications onto your leg,” He murmured. “I hid crutches in your closet in case you want to move around while I’m remodelling, but I doubt you want to use them because of your ‘I’m a strong, independent man, and if anyone found out I have one leg, then my detective business and people skills would run faster than I could with two legs’” He sniggered, imitating Logan with his arms out and lowering his voice to sound like him. Grabbing the crutches from the closet, Remus waved goodbye before leaving Logan alone, and leg until much later.</p><p>“Wait, Remus!” Logan called out, hopping over to the door to yell out at him. He turned around, and stood where he was with his attention to the one-legged man behind the door.</p><p>Logan leapt closer outside the door, peeking his head out to find Remus. “If you need to talk about anything, you can always come to me. Not because I’m a detective, but because I’m your friend,”</p><p>Giving him a soft smile, Remus left Logan in his room, remembering the comment for later, when he does want to see him again.</p><p>-*-</p><p>Remus walked across the train. He thought about the recent murder in the train when he passed by the rooms similar to the crime scene, but he couldn’t help but think about something else in the meantime.</p><p>
  <em>“Aléjate de mí, aléjate de mis hijos!” A woman shrieked, holding a young boy in her arms and his brother clutching her dress.</em>
</p><p>“Loghannnn” Remus sang. “I forgot to show you the newest wooden brain statue I made, and it’s made for you too!” He laughed. Coming back after going to his workshop, he saw Logan in his room and held Logan’s leg in one arm and a wooden statue in the other, grinning at his friend.</p><p>
  <em>The man opposite the woman cocked the pistol he had in hand, aiming it at the woman. Her son whimpered from the sight, hiding his face in his mother’s new dress and the young boy stayed quiet, watching the whole commotion unfolding.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, and what does it look like?” Logan asked, inspecting the statue he held in his hands.</p><p>
  <em>“Yo solamente necesaria tu dinero, toda mas es inutil,” The man explained, his finger hovering over the trigger. Cocking the barrel twice, the bullet laid bare before it could be shot. “Los niños pueden morir en el viejo orfanato por todo lo que me importa,”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No toque ellas cualquier cosa- CUALQUIER COSA PERO ELLAS, NO TU ATREVIMIENTO LAICA UNA DEDO EN MI NINOS!” The woman screamed in fright. The young boy blocked his ears when she yelled, and his brother started crying. A click echoed once in their house, and suddenly a boom shot through. The woman fell onto the ground, head clashing on the ground while the young boy was dropped from her arms.</em>
</p><p>Remus stood there, slowly blinking with his mind racing. Trying to single out both thoughts of the memory and Logan in front of him. Shaking his head as an attempt, he grinned while holding his things again.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>
  <em>It all happened so slowly, yet it was far too quickly to register. His brother wailed beside their now-dead mother as he laid on the floor, crying on her delicate, sunny warm dress. Getting off the ground, he saw his brother’s red clothes stained into a darker shade, and his own green clothing mixed with its own blood red stain.</em>
</p><p>“Remus? Remus, are you alright?!” Logan asked in a hurry - that wasn’t normal for Remus.</p><p>“Of course, why do you ask?” He chuckled.</p><p>
  <em>The swamp of blood around him painted him, and he even saw where the bullet holes were pierced through her body. The young boy stood silent as he allowed his older brother to grieve, and soon enough he found a pool of tears flushing his face, even when the thief left the scene of their once, lively home.</em>
</p><p>“Remus, I know I said that you can come to me anytime something happened, but you need to tell me right now why you’re crying,”</p><p>“I’m crying?” He asked, touching his face when he asked the question. Streams of tears dripped down his eyes, and he never realised he was upset. Logan brought him inside his room again, sitting them both down in his bed until Remus started choking on his tears, sobbing. Dropping both the leg and statue, he hid his face in his hands as he wept.</p><p>“Am I crying? That’s a new thing for me, and if you want an explanation- It’s going to be hard for me. I-I don’t know if I can do it without these stupid tears,” He stuttered. Logan gave him an awkward side hug as support, and Remus appreciated the gesture of his friend’s attempt of comfort. Maybe he could, maybe Logan would understand. Logan rested his head on his shoulder, mumbling a tune to keep the silence away until Remus was ready to speak.</p><p>“Logan?” Logan stopped mumbling. “You asked me the question before, the question why I wasn’t affected by the man’s, well, Thomas’ death,” He breathed, calming himself down before he spoke again. “I’ve already seen it so many times, whenever I see my Mama with me. The body, the blood - I’ve already seen it before,”</p><p>Soon enough he laughed. “I’ve seen it so many times, I’ve become unfazed by it. I could always tell a few others about it without reacting, but I guess I can’t now huh? Am I like a freak, or a perfect killer, all because I’ve seen my mother die in front of me and felt no true pain from it?” He wiped the last of the sudden tears from his face, the pain washing over him too quickly for Logan to comprehend. It was a bombshell of news, and Logan’s lack of reaction stirred an uncomfortable feeling inside Remus. What could Logan say? Not much, that’s for sure. Neither was he prepared for Remus to say anything like this, but what did he really expect from him?</p><p>“Condolences to your mother; birth mother,” Logan said. “I apologise if my question triggered you, but I cannot guarantee a clean ‘beat around the bush’ as you guys say,”</p><p>Remus rolled his eyes, “did you seriously use a metaphor?”</p><p>Logan smirked. “And what if I did?” He playfully bumped his shoulder onto Remus, seeming as rough contact cheered him up sometimes.</p><p>Logan noticed the statue and his leg in Remus' hands and plucked the leg off his hands. Propping it back on his body, he kicked the crutches under his bed and adjusted his clothing to hide the leg better. Holding the statue, he pretended to inspect it before giving Remus a thumbs up, already liking the statue before even having to carefully study it. It was his attempt to cheer Remus up, and he noticed the small smile returning from his saddened face. The fine details of Remus’ craftsmanship is already amazing, with the wood carvings ingrained steadily and the wood soft from it’s sanding. He would keep the statue of the Brain.</p><p>“Thank you, Remus,”</p><p>Remus left his room for good this time to create more projects, easing his rebound trauma and waved Logan goodbye. Bidding him farewell, Logan stayed in his bedroom a little while longer, placing the Brain statue beside before looking outside the window of the new country they are travelling through. Belgium always looked nice, and the mountain range looked higher than what Logan could ever imagine climbing. He wrote down Remus’ confession in his book moments later after gazing at the mountains, and closed it for the moment until the next morning.</p><p>This trip got a little more interesting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: Okay, so this story was written in a different document before I copy/paste onto AO3 here and turns out AO3 don't have italics when I did copy and paste? So only now did I realise 'oh, that's gonna be confusing' so '...' is basically where an Itallic should be,</p><p>Sorry for those who did read this chapter and were confused about the weird back and forth pacing - it will be edited before any new chapters can be published,</p><p>Plus this was meant to be chapter 5, apologies for that as well. </p><p>Translation:</p><p>Woman: Get away from me, get away from my sons!<br/>Man: I only need yer’ money, everything else is useless.<br/>The boys can die over at the old orphanage for all I care.<br/>Woman: Don’t touch them, anything- ANYTHING BUT THEM, DON’T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON MY BOYS!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. - Chapter 6 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Mentions of character death, graphic imagery</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, where did you get your hat?” Remy asked, jumping on the lounge chair where Janus sat, writing notes on his own notebook. Remy picked his hat up, twirling it around before putting it back on his head, smirking and waving at Emile standing from behind. The poor boy hasn't smiled since the shock from yesterday, and Virgil already left him earlier that day to help out in the front of the train. Patton sat by himself playing solitaire, and Roman is slowly losing his sanity whilst sketching the same thing over many times before.</p><p>They all sat in the dining room again together, silent with the news replaying over and over again. As witnesses to a murder, nobody was allowed to enter the crime scene or allowed to go explore outside like planned. Their trip became useless, passing by countries regardless. The train driver told the few passengers earlier that he had clear instructions to continue the train, as the investigation will be held in France since the steam train was built and made in France, and could then be better accessed by the engineers of the train stationed in France in case any damage or clues were littered.</p><p>Virgil could only do so much as his own train engineer, since his other workers made the outside of the train line. With rules to keep the train going and to only stop for refuelling until they do reach France, it made the experience far more boring than intended. At least an unexpected murder made things interesting, but not entertaining enough to have any real fun. Nobody mentioned a detective is sitting on the train, or the fact he’s currently on the case as soon as it was mentioned.</p><p>Logan sat in his room, working through the many photos of evidence he collected, as well as remembering Remus’ recent confession replying in his mind countless times. He already knew that it would be unfair to judge someone for murder, purely for how they act, and he did also feel guilty for Remus feeling the need to explain a secret he kept to himself for so long. Shaking his head, he remembered that he was not just a detective, but his friend. Remus did it because he wanted to - at least, Logan hoped.</p><p>Going back to his work, he decided to wait a little longer until everyone was everyone felt okay enough to speak about the recent murder, collecting small pieces of evidence each hour that passes by. The unfortunate reality however; he had less than a month to prepare everything by himself - evidence, testimonies, autopsy, and the actual murderer. Packing his things, he figured that he should at least go back to the crime scene, hopefully collecting more information for the unexplained murder.</p><p>Something inside him thinks that everyone wasn’t ‘chosen’ for the newest train ride, and another gut feeling felt as if there was something he didn’t know about also riding with everyone on the train. Neither Roman or Remus mentioned it in the letter once, but there must be a specific reason as to why Thomas was murdered - despite nobody hearing who he was a mere few nights ago.</p><p>Waddling to the dining cabin, he passed by the Belgium town side and sighed. If nobody murdered Thomas, he might’ve actually had what both the Suenos brothers suggested for him. Having a vacation. He groaned from annoyance, while looking outside the window. He could be there right now, relaxing under the blissful sunlight and truly enjoying himself away from murder cases - hell, he just temporarily quit his job because of a frustrating case. At least he’s given the opportunity to work himself, by himself, with nobody influencing what happens next. That felt nice at least.</p><p>The train travelled past the sparkling lakes decorating the countryside, and decided to go back walking to Thomas’ cabin, giving him a little visit. During his moment with Remus, Virgil and the crew decided to move the body after finding a more appropriate place to rest Thomas. So, the body would not be in his room. At least the stench of decomposition will go away eventually while Logan investigates, but the dreaded thought of seeing it again sends chills down his spine. He’s seen gruesome, messy deaths countless times, but he couldn’t help but feeling nausea each time he had to look at them. Some humans, too brutal to others for their own gain.</p><p>Opening the door again, he entered inside the crime scene again. Holding the photos of yesterday in his hands, he compared both time settings before noticing something of the room. Although it was black and white footage, he realised that the clothes and mess Thomas made before his death were different from what he’s seeing now. Most clothing were scattered to different spots than what the photo suggested, shirts and other fabrics thrown away in a cluttered scatter.</p><p>The clothes covered more of the floor space, making it nearly impossible for Logan to walk through the scene. It was as if someone was looking for something while Logan was away. Taking a few pictures, he had to check with Virgil first to determine whether or not he moved anything when he was with the body. Moving away from the room, he went off to where Virgil should be at the current moment.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“Logan, what are you doing here?” Virgil hissed, escorting Logan outside the driver’s station at the front of the train. An issue was called when one of his co-workers explained the lights weren’t working when they were venturing inside one of the few tunnels in their new location: Germany. Virgil was busy examining the small light box of the train, and murmured to himself when he looked through the various cords of the box before Logan appeared and gave him a small heart-attack from behind.</p><p>“I came with an inquiry, Virgil, and it’s important that I ask now before further deliberation-”</p><p>“Logan, seriously, stay away from this part of the train. I’m very busy,”</p><p>“Virgil,” Logan said. “It will be a simple question, a yes or no scenario,”</p><p>Virgil stayed quiet, crossing his arms while tapping his foot on the ground. He was impatient, and Logan took the time now to speak before he would run back to his mechanics.</p><p>“I want to ask if you moved anything in the crime scene,” He said, keeping a neutral demeanour. It must’ve been a good question, as Virgil’s eyes widened and his mouth slightly open, closing it while in thought.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, “Are you saying someone tampered with the scene?” He asked. “I made a small pathway for the guys to move the body without causing any more harm, but none of us touched anything… unless…”</p><p>This piqued Logan’s interest. “Unless?” He prompted. Virgil shook his head, walking back to his assignment.</p><p>“I’m not allowed to say, on behalf of the boss. Logan, I’m going back to what I’m doing, but…” He looked away, thinking. “If you want to drink together at some point… I still have your wine bottle and it’s untouched so,” He fiddled with his thumbs. Logan softly smiled, brushing the long bangs off his friend’s face.</p><p>“I’d like that,”</p><p>-*-</p><p>After seeing Virgil, Logan decided to go back into the dining - well, Commons room now - to meet everyone again. He decided to look at the body later and hopefully ask Remus if he also wants to help him with making the autopsy report. His extensive knowledge of human anatomy and weaponry was questionable, but Logan always called it handy. Perhaps when he felt better seeing the body, as he was a little shaken when he confessed his trauma. It can always wait, the body is stored in a better place for the time being.</p><p>His job for now is studying everyone. To learn who everyone is, and hopefully grab a few bits of information for the investigation. Preparing his notebook and trusty pen, Logan opened the carriage door to the commons room. Everyone was playing another card game, by the looks of everyone huddled together to compete. Patton did mention before that he had his own set of playing cards whenever he was travelling, and by his undetermined win against Logan, everyone must be playing against him to test themselves. Janus and Roman sat together on the floor with their cards, and Emile was curled up on Remy hugging a plush doll. Remy snaked his hand around Emile protectively, whilst holding his own hand of cards. It didn’t look like poker, but regardless of what it was, Logan wasn’t interested in playing.</p><p>Remy spotted the detective standing in the doorway, and placed his cards faced down before getting up from his seat. Jogging quickly inside the kitchen area, he walked back out holding a black, leather jacket and wrapped it around Emile’s shoulders. Meeting Logan again, he waved everyone goodbye before going inside the kitchen quarters, beckoning Logan to join suite. He raised his eyebrow at the sudden change in his behaviour, and glanced to everyone who starred on the new change. Shrugging their arms in confusion, Logan sighed and decided to join Remy in the kitchen quarters to discuss with each other. They both sat together on the table where the food would be prepared for later, the wide assortments of kitchen utensils and saucepans covering the white walls.</p><p>“I told them that I wanted to see you when you arrived back, but babe, do I have information to tell you,” He laughed. “Get your notes ready because I’m gonna spill once, and only once,”</p><p>Without question, Logan opened his book, flipping to a new page before Remy could list the information from his fingers.</p><p>“Well, the first point is that there’s something in this train that I’m not supposed to tell you, so ta-da~” He said with pride. Logan grumbled instead, tapping his pen on the notebook.</p><p>“That is not useful, Remy…”</p><p>“Oh, my second point was that Roman, mi amigo, bestest babe, is also going to be the eyes and ears of this case,” He winked. “We want in with this case, and he’s gonna work with me,”</p><p>Sighing, he leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “Remy, this is not a joke,”</p><p>“I’m aware, but we’re in deep now hun. I’m assuming you wouldn’t want people to know you’re a detective because you could be a potential target next, yes? The fact you have a permit to legally arrest people to their doom, and will know a lot about the killer - finding the killer themselves” He said. “You’ll need what Roman says, ‘spies in the inside’,”</p><p>“Fine, fine.. what else do you have to say?” Logan was slowly growing impatient, Remy cheered from his hesitant approval.</p><p>“Oh you’re so not gonna regret this doll. Okay, so, The second point is that Thomas had a key on him, something about the boss wanting to trust him with the key and the carriage? Anyways-”</p><p>“Wait, what?” Logan stopped writing. “Are you saying there’s some sort of secret in this train? And you didn’t mention this as your first point when you said ‘I know something that I’m not suppose to tell you?!’” He asked. Remy shrugged.</p><p>“I’ll call it a treasure, sounds cooler. Anyway, before you rudely interrupted me, I saw Janus writing something on that journal of his, and it looked like the murder case if you want to check that out next,”</p><p>Logan kept writing. By what Remy suggested, Janus could be a potential murderer, but due to the lack of time he has to solve the murder case and the fact he’s all by himself, maybe allowing a few friends into the investigation might be a sound idea. This could give him a better time to prepare things when they stop in France, and possibly solve the case earlier. This could be his chance, his big shot to catch the murderer.</p><p>“Remy, could you and Roman do me a favour?” Logan asked. Remy towards him, lowing his tinted glasses as a sign of his attention. “Okay, if you’re willing to investigate this case with Roman. Could you keep an eye on Patton specifically and Roman looks over to Janus? I’m not convinced of what happens next, or if they are the murderers, but this can spare me the time. I’ll have to look into this… treasure too and I’m not going to finish this investigation with the time I have left alone,”</p><p>Remy hummed, jumping off the food counter before helping Logan off as well, ensuring that he doesn’t trip over his leg. He contemplated his decision, nodding when he made his choice. “Okay, I will,”</p><p>-*-</p><p>
  <em>(Hide the key, hide the key)</em>
</p><p>That was the only thing Thomas thought before the first click of the gun and a booming shatter beside him. They were here, the murderer was here pointing the gun towards him. He was crying, he didn’t know when the tears started but he also knew it would be the last thing he thought - the pathetic fact that his only purpose was meant to protecting a stupid treasure. He knew he had too much faith in others, but he promised them… he promised them…</p><p>At least he knew the perfect hiding spot for the key.</p><p>-*-</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. - Chapter 7 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Mentions of character death, alcohol abuse, drunk characters</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter will have 2 parts considering the size of the overall chapter, so by the time it's the second chapter hopefully it works like a break for everyone before reading onward.</p><p>Edit: Chapter breaks will be in the one chapter for now on. Enjoy-</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Logan knocked on Virgil’s door, holding a plate of food for the both of them. He promised Virgil yesterday that he would bring food for him whenever he could, and respected his opinion when he didn’t like eating with others. Knocking a few times on his door, he patiently waited outside for Virgil to open the door for him. A few clicks were heard on the other side, and Virgil greeted Logan, following him inside his room. </p><p>It was smaller than the rooms others were staying in, as he worked in the train service. There was only one bed, and a small closet to place his clothes in. Logan found it a bit bare, but Virgil didn’t seem to mind his small room, liked it even. They both sat together on Virgil’s bed, while Virgil grabbed his sweater to wear. Placing the plates down on the small table beside the bed, Virgil grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses to drink from. </p><p>“So, I think you’d like what I found from the light box,” He started, pouring the liquid for the both of them. Logan started eating his dinner, gulping it down when it grabbed his interest.</p><p>“Well, we didn’t worry much about the lights before since we had enough light sources to travel through the tunnels, but after fixing the cables, I found something interesting,” He reached in his pockets, pulling out a few broken wires. Logan held them with delicacy, but was too confused with what interested Virgil. He is the engineer after all, he is the mere detective. Virgil looked down on his sweater sleeve, pulling it while Logan studied the wires. </p><p>“They were tampered with, and I triple checked the light box before we left King’s Cross,” His voice was traced with worry. “Logan, someone cut the wires, and I don’t even know if they knew what they were cutting - Logan, they could do it again,”</p><p>“Virgil? Do you think this might be the same person who murdered Thomas?” Logan asked, hopefully an attempt to ask Virgil. Silence followed shortly, until Virgil gasped and suddenly gripped on his head, pulling his hair.</p><p>“Logan, this is bad. If this is the murderer, then this means that he wouldn’t care about those on the train-” His voice became shaky, closing his eyes while breathing slowly. Logan was lost, and waited for Virgil to process his thoughts first before speaking again. “Logan, I found the tampered light box wire, but when I inspected all the other wires - they’ve been tampered too. They were close to touching the wires even I wouldn’t be able to fix, Logan, this is bad-”</p><p>“Virgil,” Logan said, holding his hand and resting it over his chest. The beats of his heart were even, and he saw Virgil levelling his breathing to match his. He might not be as knowledgeable on other’s feelings, but years of experience taught him how to calm others down. “Whether this person is or is not the murderer, we still need an answer on why they would do these things. A motive,” Logan murmured.</p><p>“I don’t think the murderer would endanger anyone on this train, or attempt any harm on the train itself,” Virgil’s eyes furrowed in thought, and Logan used the time to keep talking, an attempt to ground the easily anxious man. “Remy told me earlier about this… treasure, and how Thomas kept the key for it,”</p><p>“How did Remy- you know what, I’m not gonna bother asking that,” Virgil’s mind was cut, returning slowly back to reality. “Remy shouldn’t have known that, and even I didn’t know that,”</p><p>Interesting. “You didn’t know?”</p><p>Virgil shook his head. “Everyone, including me, was told vaguely about something on the train and how someone would look after it for us. None of us questioned it because it meant less work to worry about, but we were told that the carriage would be stopped in France, so…” Virgil shrugged. “It would make sense for the boss to give a key to Thomas, especially if it was ‘treasure’ on the train,”</p><p>“How come?”</p><p>“He’s just the trustworthy guy I suppose,” Virgil said. “I don’t know much about him, other than he trusts everyone and how everyone trusts him, but that’s the downfall, isn’t it?” </p><p>Cutting his lobster and chewing, Logan nodded before swallowing. “Do you think Emile or Remy would know anything else about him?”</p><p>He waved his hand with an ‘okay’ expression. “I think I’ve heard them gushing over how Thomas would be travelling with them again, so on this train? But I do know Emile was Thomas’ closest friend, vice versa? I’m not helping, sorry,” He mumbled, curling up into a small ball. Logan gave him his plate of seafood dinner, finishing his and placing it aside. </p><p>“You are more helpful than you give yourself credit for, but we still need to know who or why someone would tamper with the train controls,”</p><p>They both sat in silence. Virgil chomped on his own lobster and Logan swirling his glass of wine around, taking a swig before resting the glass aside when Virgil wanted to drink his own. Pondering, Virgil’s mind lit like a light bulb, exclaiming something mid-eating. </p><p>“Janus,” He spat out. Logan grimaced, giving his friend a napkin to eat with. </p><p>“Please eat with your mouth closed, Virgil,” He asked. Wearing the napkin on his neck, he swallowed his food and cleared his throat.</p><p>“Janus’ always saying how he wants to touch the train controls, and I never trusted him with even stepping foot near the driving zone,” He coughed, clearing his throat again. “I never liked him, and he always gets his way,”</p><p>“Virgil, you don’t have many people to like in the first place,” Logan reminded him.</p><p>“Man, why do you gotta say that?” He winced, reaching over for his glass of wine to drink. Gulping his drink down, Logan took a moment until he could speak again.</p><p>“Sorry, I didn’t mean it by that. I was just stating-”</p><p>Virgil interrupted him, waving his hands away while picking up the bottle. “All good, I was joking anyway,”</p><p>“Oh,”</p><p>Topping both their glasses, Virgil popped the cork back onto the bottle while Logan took a sip of his new refill. Sitting in a comfortable silence, Logan debated in his mind whether or not he should ask Virgil’s dislike for Janus. For all Logan knew, Janus was a simple guy who lived in the simple life. What he did to Virgil, he didn’t know yet, but maybe he would find out when they talked a ‘little’ longer. That was his plan anyway, and it sounded mean to wait until Virgil got drunk first to spill what he’s thinking of doing. Now he thought about it, neither man knew how long it took for either of them to get drunk, and they are on a train so nothing dangerous can happen. </p><p>“Virgil, I got an experiment…”</p><p>-*-</p><p>Both men laughed over what Virgil said later; Logan’s face tinted a light pink while Virgil looked fine. Neither of them felt anything, but Logan allowed himself to have fun and laughed hard over Virgil’s joke. Their first bottle was empty, and they agreed to wait a few moments until Logan would volunteer himself to grab another bottle for the both of them and some food to level out the alcohol contents. Virgil giggled over Logan’s reaction, and the other nearly had tears in his eyes.</p><p>“D-do you remember what Ro-Roman did next?” Logan snorted, remembering the image clear as day. It was possibly the funniest day he ever had, and Virgil agreed when he recounted the events. </p><p>“Didn’t he swing the baseball bat backwards and hit Remus’ stomach?”</p><p>“It-it wasn’t his stomach. He swung so hard backwards, and Remus crumbled on the ground,”</p><p>Both siblings invited Logan and Virgil to one of their holiday houses in Ireland, wanting to show the both of them how to play their new found sport of baseball while they lived in America. It was a sight, to say the least. Logan soon calmed down, getting up from his seat to bring the plates and empty bottle of wine back to replace it with a filled bottle instead. Virgil didn’t look drunk yet, but he was glad he could enjoy himself at least. Taking off his tie and coat, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and left it in Virgil’s room until he came back. He felt warm, and he knew it wasn’t the alcohol, but because he was happy.</p><p>Hobbling to the dining cabin, he saw everyone else eating on the table. Roman was chatting with Janus, and Remy was talking with Emile for the time being. Patton ate his food by himself, and a pang of guilt struck in Logan when the seats besides Patton were empty. Did Patton wait until Logan came to eat with him? Or maybe to talk to him again? Logan had to be honest, Patton was nice to be around with, especially to talk to. His cheeks flushed a little more, wanting to call out for him; he did look a little sad when he was alone and Logan felt it was partially his fault. </p><p>“Patton?” Logan waved to him, smiling to grab his attention. Patton saw him, and sank further in his seat. Everyone spotted Logan and waved back to him, but Logan stopped smiling when Patton ignored his greeting. It was fine, Patton didn’t just want to talk to him, it’s all fine. He can try again when he comes back. His body jittered at the thought, it sounded like a good idea after all. Grabbing a plate for snacks, he disposed of the empty plates and bought another bottle of wine, Logan glanced back to see if Patton wanted to say anything, look at him even. He didn’t know why, but he already missed his smile.</p><p>He frowned when Patton looked away from him.</p><p>(Chapter break) c:</p><p>A few more small glasses later, Logan started feeling the small effects of the alcohol. Virgil still looked fine, eating a slice of buttered bread with his red wine. They both drank their last drop from the second bottle, and Logan waited again until he could get another bottle for the both of them. Picking up a slice of cheese, Logan nibbled on the food while Virgil ate his snack. The time was 21:58 (9:58 PM), but that didn’t matter for either of them.</p><p>“Do you wanna get another bottle, Logan?” Virgil asked, finishing his slice of bread. Logan nodded, getting up from his seat to journey back into the dining room. His little heart fluttered when he remembered Patton would be in the room. He might be a little under the influence, but that will not interfere with his feelings - not in any way. Come to think of it, the last time he allowed himself to get somewhat drunk was well over 16 years ago.</p><p>Entering the room, he looked around for light brown curls, or round shaped glasses. His thoughts felt funny as he walked, and when he saw the others he waved again.</p><p>“Logan, what are you doing?” Janus chuckled. Logan glanced at his name, and tilted his head as if he was a confused dog.</p><p>“Finding Patton? Oh, and refills,”</p><p>Remy overhead Logan’s comment, and frowned from what he heard. “Sorry, babe, I asked if he wanted to stay after dinner but I guess he just wanted to leave,”</p><p>“Impossible,” Logan said. “It’s only 22:20 (10:20 PM), it’s too early,”</p><p>“Lo,” Roman said. “We can’t force him to stay. Are you feeling alright by the way?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” He asked.</p><p>“Logan, you look drunk,” Remus chuckled. Logan huffed, grabbing two bottles of wine before wobbling out of the dining room.</p><p>“I am fine, thank you for your concern,” He said, closing the door on the way out.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“Virgil” Logan whined, pulling on his friend’s sweater. He thought it was a good idea to drink from the bottle, alongside Virgil who also did the same. Although Virgil’s face was flushed, Logan’s demeanour dropped as well as his walls. There were tears slowly flowing from his eyes while sitting on the floor, the bottle in his hands. The third bottle was hardly empty, and Virgil finished his bottle feeling fine. Virgil sat on his bed, smirking on his bed while watching an emotional Logan crying on the floor. It was possibly the first, and definitely not, the last time he would see Logan expressing his feelings.</p><p>“Logan, I think you had enough buddy. You might wanna go to your own room-”</p><p>“No,” Logan groaned, hiccuping. “I-I wanna know why you don’t… don’t like Ja-Janus” he coughed. Groggily finding his notebook and pen, he got up from the floor and felt the rush of alcohol pass his brain. At least his logic still worked, although he feared it might not be for long. Virgil burped in response, leaving the empty bottle beside him as he laid down on his bed in thought.</p><p>“I don’t want to get to detail, honestly. Even if I was drunk, it wouldn’t have worked,” He smirked at Logan. “Guess your plan backfired. Quick warning next time Lo, don’t test an Irishman who drinks more regularly compared to you who hasn't gone drunk in years,”</p><p>Logan groaned as his answer. Getting up from his bed, Virgil stood while holding his bed frame. He wobbled and fell back down, not even going to attempt what an one-legged man looks like while drunk out of his mind.</p><p>“C’me on Logan, let’s get you to your room…” He grumbled, picking Logan up and swinging an arm around his shoulder. Hiccuping, Logan moaned as his vision swam, dancing around his sight. His right leg was barely standing, his left limping before he crashed on the ground. Staying down, Virgil tried picking him up again and took a deep breath, opening his door to bring his friend back to his room. He had to at least check he’ll be alright, otherwise his anxieties will bubble again until the morning sun rises on his face.</p><p>-*-</p><p>A camera in his hands and a book bag carried along, Patton tiptoed to the crime scene. The gun rested inside his pocket, in case anything happened while he was trekking towards the murder. There was something he wanted to find in that room, something on the train. The moonlight shone through the window, the light cotton curtains blowing on the wind as they passed through the tracks. Ticks on the clock were heard nearby, and as he took notice of the time being well after midnight, it was a surprise to see a faint shadow in the distance. It was light enough to cast a shadow of two figures limping towards him, but who would be awake at 2 in the morning?</p><p>There was nowhere to hide. All the cabins were locked and his room was too far away to reach in time. He was so close to Thomas’ cabin, and if he ran back then he would surely be caught by whoever was coming towards him. Looking up to the roof, he inwardly groaned when he noticed the latches being bolted onto the steel of the frames, cursing at the engineer who thought it was a smart idea to bolt them down. Standing, he braced himself before walking to the shadows, at least pretending to act casual. What he should’ve expected however, was a tipsy man dragging their drunk friend tiredly to a different carriage. The drunk friend sobbed whilst the other patted his back in sympathy, yawning as they struggled to walk.</p><p>“Left, right… left, right, left…” Virgil repeated under his breath, teaching Logan how to walk. His crying howled in his ears, and he wished his friend went back to their quiet, sobered self. Logan would not stop drinking the bottle, and his mind became more foggy, his memories reappearing where he kept locked. He was fighting, head twitching in fright as he started crying more tears. Clattering sounds of a machine gun shooting and rifle shots echoed in his head, and the screams surrounding him got louder. His body jittered, and he didn’t realise he crumbled on the ground until Virgil started dragging him on the ground.</p><p>Patton stared at the pair in front of him, his defences dropped instantly at the sight of them. Virgil heaved as he tried pulling his friend across the floor, and Logan was shaking like a leaf. He didn’t know if Virgil noticed Logan’s upset state, but the sight of the well-kept, serious man covering his mouth to suppress his own sound broke something inside Patton. Suddenly enough, Logan yelped as Virgil dropped his foot unexpectedly, finally finding the sight of Patton.</p><p>“Lo, Lo, look, someone is here, he can help us,” Virgil said, kneeling down to him. Taking off his glasses for him, he wordlessly gave Patton Logan’s belongings and gestured to him to help pick Logan up off the ground. Logan kept flinching, his body trembling as he refused to walk. Still holding the bottle, Patton carefully plucked the green glass from his hands and held it himself. Perhaps the man had too much alcohol to drink.</p><p>“Rendre ça, rends-le maintenant,” He whimpered, “J’en ai besoin, c’est fort, le-les Allemands-”</p><p>“Allemands? Why does that sound familiar?” Virgil questioned. Patton stared at Logan, whispering to him instead.</p><p>“Germans, um- Que font-ils, les Allemands?” He asked vaguely. Logan must’ve understood, because his breath hitched while struggling to escape from their hold.</p><p>“Les Allemands, ils vont nous tuer. Mes amis, ils sont tous morts… Ils sont tous morts!” Escaping their hold, Logan stumbled forwards after running a few steps, slowly backing towards the wall. His breathing was erratic and Virgil leapt forward to cover his mouth. He curled up into a ball, hiding his face as he flinched, his breathing uncontrollable and skin burning warm.</p><p>“Lo, gimme 5 things you can see, right now-” Virgil said. If Logan keeps crying, someone would be bound to notice all of them awake. The last thing either of them want was someone to watch Logan cry, or panic through his nightmare.</p><p>“Je-Je ne vois rien-”</p><p>“Monsieur” Patton cut in, sitting beside Logan. Holding his clammy hand, he gave the stricken man an encouraging smile. He has to be happy right now if he wanted the drunk passenger to calm down. “Tu vois moi, oui?”</p><p>“Oui,” He breathed. “Je vous vois, et Virgil…” He squinted his eyes, his vision swimming with nothing but strange outlines of shapes. “Et rein?”</p><p>Virgil raised an eyebrow when Patton shrugged as his response. “Good enough, 4 things you can feel,”</p><p>Closing his eyes, Logan furrowed deeper as he kept himself quiet, concentrating on the question asked. Ground, floor? The wall, a hand, his hand? No, Patton’s? His-his shirt. That’ll do. Opening his eyes, he felt lighter than he was on the ground, did Virgil pick him off the ground again? He felt a hand around his waist, two people, Patton?</p><p>Virgil took smaller steps than he did before, sighing in relief when he saw Logan slowly moving again himself. Drunk and emotional, Virgil knew Logan would not pass through his worrisome state. By staying quiet, at least it bought them time until he woke up painful and sober. Patton followed the rhythm of Virgil’s walk, and Logan took his own time planting one foot in front of the other, even if he was still incredibly wobbly. Soon enough both men felt a heavy weight on their shoulders, looking over an asleep Logan beside them.</p><p>“I don’t think he’ll be okay if he’s alone in his room, and I can’t stay because of work in a few hours,” Virgil huffed.</p><p>Oh right, it was still early morning. “I can stay with him for the night, make sure he’s okay in the morning,” Patton said. Blinking, Virgil raised an eyebrow and looked at the man.</p><p>“And how could I trust you? You could murder my friend next, for all I know,”</p><p>Grimacing, Patton shook Virgil’s hands off Logan and picked the man easily off the ground to carry him on his back instead. “I don’t believe in harm, and harming a drunken person is the worst thing someone could do in this state,” He said. Surprising Virgil with his sudden strength, Virgil stayed quiet until he unlocked Logan’s door, leading them both inside. They both took a quick moment to admire his room before Virgil glared to Patton again.</p><p>“I still don’t trust you, but I will for him… for now; You’re up to something, sir… Trust me when I say this, but you will be caught,” Virgil warned, the threat looming over when Patton tilted his head in question.</p><p>He soon left them both alone in the room, closing the door on the way out. Guiding Logan to his bed, Patton tucked him in under the covers and giggled quietly to himself whenever Logan hiccuped. Studying the room, he abandoned his bag and camera, setting them both on Logan’s table sitting across from his bed. Notes scrawled in his handwriting were scattered all over the desk, and he noticed a few pictures accompanying the papers too. Patton could assume the man wouldn't own a camera. Were these pictures of Thomas? Or would these papers be about the crime scene? Why would he have them, unless…</p><p>“Patton? Est-ce vous?” He softly cried. Logan was still a sobbing mess, but at least he looked calmer than earlier. If Patton had to be honest, he wanted to stay with the other. They had more in common than he thought before. Maybe, just maybe… Could they be friends? He didn’t know the man that well. Heck, he didn’t even get his name. Just maybe, if this man considered him a friend, then he could return the favour. After all, what’s another friend going to bring?</p><p>-*-<br/>
...</p><p>“Patton, is-is that you?” The pilot coughed, hanging over the crashed plane. Shot down by the enemy plane, he closed his eyes momentarily before Patton got out the burning plane. Fire, the fire burned his skin but he tried saving the pilot. Tears pricked his eyes from the fire embers, coughing from the smoke entering his lungs.</p><p>“I’m not losing you - my... my... Freund. Du kommst mit mir... Alles wird gut,” He whispered closely to them, his smile wobbling as he spoke his home. They knew he was German, but they never judged him once… even loving his German tongue. Ironic, considering what this war was to the both of them, but it never cared to either of them for the moment.</p><p>“Patton,” They coughed up blood, their eyes still closed as it was too painful to open. Ushering Patton to run and leave him be, the pilot felt the smoke choking them. “You’re a brother to me, partner,”</p><p>“And you are my first friend,” He said, mumbling to himself when their body laid limp dead. “Mein erster Freund...”</p><p>...</p><p>-*-</p><p>“It’s- C'est moi,” Patton replied, sitting on his bed as he looked at the broken man. Logan noticed his prying eyes over at his examination table, and the small dose of rationality told his tipsy brain to distract him.</p><p>“Pouvez-vous rester avec moi?” His voice was small, as if he was a child afraid of being left alone. In truth, he probably was in that current state. Patton took off his suit jacket and tie, slipping under the covers where Logan made small room for him to sink under. He would admit, his bed was very comfortable, and he saw a small smile on Logan’s face before he closed his eyes to sleep in a slumber. Yawning, Patton decided to do the same, softly smiling in satisfaction.</p><p>Needless to say, they slept better than they had in years.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translation:<br/>L: Give that back, give it back now. I need it, it’s loud, the-the Germans.<br/>P: What did they do, the Germans?<br/>L: The Germans, they’re going to kill us. My friends, they’re all dead</p><p>L: I-I can’t see anything<br/>P: You see me, yes?<br/>L: Yes. I see you, and Virgil…</p><p>L: Patton, is that you?</p><p>P: My friend. You’re coming with me, everything’s going to be okay.<br/>P: You’re my first friend</p><p>P: It’s me<br/>L: Co-could you stay here with me?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. - Chapter 8 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Mentions of Alcohol, Hangover, Distressed Character, Mentions Past Characters Death</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A gentle sunlight shines inside Logan’s room, the morning light brightening the day ahead. Railway tracks clicked along with it’s wheels, a soothing rhythm with a steady beat. The papers and photographs lit up from the natural light, and even the dust floated peacefully in the air. Ticking, the clock face read 11:19, and Logan didn’t wake up from his slumber. He didn’t want to wake up, sleeping quietly. A first for a long time. The clothes he wore last night still clung onto him, but they were comfortable and warm to wear. His coat, jacket and tie rested on the lounge chair beside the door, and he yawned as he gradually woke up. Sinking in his bed, he felt his wooden leg resting on the mattress, and a pain stricken headache pounding on his head. </p><p>Opening his eyes, he groaned as his eyes hurt, crisp and sore. Was he crying? No, that won’t do. He doesn’t cry, he gave up on feelings long ago. Sometimes, he might break down, a rare occurrence. Then again, he felt as if he never cried that much in such a long time. Blinking, he went to reach for his glasses until he felt something solid stopping him. What happened last night? His memories were vague, and his vision was no better. Curling his hands on hair, the instant pang of pain shot through his head, and he felt a wave of nausea gurgling inside his stomach. </p><p>“H-how much wine did you drink last night?” A voice murmured. Snuggling further into the bed, Logan looked over at the voice, and he thought the whole world stopped at the sight. Patton. Patton was on his bed, why was he on his bed? What was he doing here anyway? He felt his body heating up while Patton moved closer to him. His arms were wrapped around Logan - wait, is he hugging him?</p><p>“You smell like alcohol- wait, oh, o-OH-” Patton woke up instantly, jumping out of bed and away from Logan. Tripping over the covers, he fell backwards onto the floor and collided his head onto the ground, groaning in pain.</p><p>“Patton, are you- oh” The headache came back. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“I should ask you, sir,” He got up from the floor, giving Logan his glasses. “At least you’re speaking English again, I didn’t know how long I’d last if I kept speaking French,”</p><p>“I’m sure you have excellent linguist capabilities to continue speaking French, Patton,” He said.</p><p>Patton grabbed his jacket and tie, wrapping it around his neck and tying it on. Grabbing the camera and book bag he left for the night, he looked over at Logan before leaving the room. He wanted to stay, for either the notes on the table or to check if Logan was okay. Biting the inside of his cheek, he stared at the wall momentarily before setting his things down again. Logan crossed his arms, skeptical of what Patton was doing.</p><p>“Do you need anything for your hangover?” He asked sweetly, confusing Logan further. Sitting back down on his bed, Patton rested his back against the window wall and waited for Logan’s answer. </p><p>“I wouldn’t mind a glass of water?” It was more of a question than an answer, but Patton sprung to the kitchen to grab the glass anyway. Logan was in the midst of changing into new clothes before Patton came back with the glass of water and food. Holding two plates for both him and Logan. He relaxed on the chair and gave the food to Logan, giving him a friendly smile as a peace sign. Deciding to not question it, Logan began eating his breakfast? No, Lunch.</p><p>“Anything else you need?” Patton asked. Logan shook his head, staring at him instead.</p><p>“Why are you nice all the sudden?” He shot back. “You were never this nice before, did something happen while I was drunk?”</p><p>Patton giggled, waving off the question as he ate his food. Soon enough they sat in silence, before the overly happy man spoke again. </p><p>“What if I just want to be friends?”</p><p>“You want to be friends now?” Logan asked. Patton nodded, his eyes shone with joy from the prospect. Sighing, Logan laid back on his seat, finishing his food for the moment before getting up and hobbled to his ‘investigation’ table. Gathering his things, he picked up his notebook from the discarded coat and opened it, looking back at Patton. Flipping to a new page, he wrote down his name before he could start anything else. </p><p>“Alright, ‘friend’, what would your full name be?” He started, tapping his pen on the page. Curious, Patton crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat. He could play along. </p><p>“Patton Waldswood. What are you going to do with that information?” Patton pointed to the book in his hands. Logan hummed.</p><p>“I write down the names of all my friends, as well as who they are,” He said. “It’s better to know who my few friends would be, after all,” He technically didn’t lie, but Patton seemed satisfied as his posture relaxed in his seat. Finishing his own food, he placed it aside as he sipped his own glass of water before chatting again. </p><p>“Seems alright. Do you want to ask anything else?” He subtly glanced at the investigation table. Taking the details of the table, he only now noticed a small red string connecting a few photos together and notes from where he sat laying on the table. A wooden statue of the brain chilled with the papers, and Patton had to admit it was a nice design. Looking back to the man, Logan kept writing in his book, the fountain pen gliding on the pages whilst Patton stirred uncomfortably in his chair. Does the man think he’s the murderer? What was he, a detective? He didn’t have a badge to show anyone. What’s his gain? It sounded fishy, suspicious… What if this man was the murderer himself? Logan scribbled more details in his page, and Patton mentally prepared himself with the overload of questions he’ll soon ask.</p><p>“What would your age be, Patton?”</p><p>“34 years, Sir,”</p><p>“And job occupation?”</p><p>Patton drummed his fingers on the table, still staring at the other desk. “I’m a librarian,” He lied. Logan seemed satisfied by the answer while questioning himself of what he could ask next. His pen rested on the table, deciding to eye the other man for a simple conversation. Maybe he’s like Remus, needing a talk rather than an interrogation. </p><p>“How are you feeling after hearing what happened to Thomas?” Logan casually asked him with ease. He distanced himself from the murder, especially if he’s already too familiar working with the idea of death; both before and during his job. Patton diverted his gaze and fumbled with his loose jacket sleeve. He frowned in thought, never imagining someone wanting to kill Thomas before. </p><p>“It was a surprise that’s for sure…” He chuckled, his body hollow. Tears sprung in his eyes again, shaking his head from the sudden overwhelming emotions. “The… the moustached man said Thomas Sanders, right?” He asked himself more than anything, but Logan nodded to his question.</p><p>“It was, did you know him personally?”</p><p>Shuffling on his chair, he picked up his book bag and gripped the latch, debating whether or not he wanted to say anything. His mind was haywire, his decisions fogging up and his emotions scattering everywhere. Drops of tears fell onto his shirt, and thought whether what he was doing was a good idea after all. Maybe Patton should leave. He wanted to leave Logan and the train, he can always pay his own return ticket to England. Patton was fully aware that the man wanted to befriend him, and he wanted to be with him too. The consequences so far however, he never realised the significance of his friendships till now. First it was the pilot- oh god, how was he so naive? He experienced this before, and now it’s twice. Thomas is dead, Thomas-</p><p>“Patton? Are you alright? Breathe with me on my count, okay?” Logan clutched his hand, hovering both their hands over his heart beat. Patton furrowed from what he was doing, and didn’t realise he was eventually calming down.</p><p>“You weren’t having an attack of any sorts, but you were very distressed and I concluded that this exercise should be the most beneficial to help you calm down,” He said. Directing Patton to the blue plaid couch where they could both sit, Logan sat while putting his leg on the ottoman while Patton leaned his head on his shoulder. Waiting patiently, Patton sniffed and chuckled awkwardly.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m… friend, he was my friend,” He coughed again, “Gosh, I’m so sorry for crying,”</p><p>Logan reeled back from his response, facing Patton better. “It’s not necessary to apologise, you’re a human being with feelings,”</p><p>He sighed, “I know that, but- what… what if I don’t want these feelings? These, these unhappy feelings?”</p><p>“We need a little bit of sadness, Patton. Otherwise there’s nothing to replace it,”</p><p>“That seems easy for you to say…” He mumbled. Logan looked confused, raising his eyebrow while ignoring the pounding in his head from thinking.</p><p>“Why would it not be easy to say? It was a simple sentence after all,” He said. </p><p>“It’s just, you don’t seem to look like it… You look as if you block out any feelings. Like… you don’t feel them?” He mumbled through his words, and a pang of guilt struck inside him when he realised how it sounded. Logan frowned at the comment, and Patton scooted from Logan’s touch. He didn’t mean to, but he felt that he did accidentally say something wrong. Maybe there was a reason he looked socially closed off, and Patton felt worse from the consideration. Regretting his feelings, Patton sat straight on the couch away from Logan. Standing up, he strolled to where his bag laid on the chair. Gripping on the satchel, he wrapped the camera around his collar. He bowed his head to the detective, he reached for the door before stopping himself and glanced towards Logan again.</p><p>“I’m sorry for the question, I shouldn’t have asked. I’m afraid I overstayed my welcome, Sir,” He said. Logan stood up as well, hobbling towards Patton to clear any issues before it’s left to bubble dangerously. He wasn’t upset from Patton, far from it actually, and he never considered his appearance to others either. It sounded horrible, but he decided to treat the comment as a positive recommendation.  </p><p>“I actually think you’re quite welcome in my room,” He said calmly, ensuring that no trace of disappointment appeared through his words. “I also think that you don’t know my name either, my friend,”</p><p>Gazing up at the taller man, he clutched on his camera. Friend? “No, I don’t know. You never exactly told me,”</p><p>Holding his hand over Patton’s, he opened the door and chuckled. “I suppose I didn’t, apologies for my manners. Logan Esprit,”</p><p>Patton pondered for a moment, smiling to himself. “I guess I’ll see you later, Logie,”</p><p>Baffled, Logan raised an eyebrow from the nickname. “Logie? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that before. Are we now officially in nickname basis as ‘friends’?” He asked. Patton let out a sigh of relief. It’s good, he’s not mad after all.</p><p>Winking at Logan in amusement, Patton walked out the door before glancing back to him. “Guess you can say we can have a Patton-cake to celebrate later,” He internally cheered when he heard Logan groan from the pun, knowing it wasn’t intentional by any means and was a small joke. Smiling as an achievement, he stood still at the other side of the doorway.</p><p>“Logan? Thank you,”</p><p>“Thank you, for?” He asked, leaning against the doorway.</p><p>He giggled. “For cheering me up a little bit silly. I’m sorry for ignoring you before, but I’m sure we can hang out more - as friends, you know?” </p><p>They both thought over the prospect and neither wanted to disagree over the thought. Patton officially made his leave when Logan smiled and closed the door. At least Patton felt a little happier than before.</p><p>Maybe the happiness could balance out their sadness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. - Chapter 9 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: War, fire, plane crashes, death, character depression, weaponry mentions</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A few of these chapters would come up every now and again, and we call these filler chapters -</p><p>A small break from the main story :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patton beamed with joy until he reached his room stay. Entering the room, he laid on his bed and giggled in glee. He was wrong about Logan before, he did like him. Logan wanted to talk to him more. He made sure that Patton was okay, he truly cared. Patton was allowed in his room- he was his friend. A friend… He never had another friend for a while, especially since <em> then, </em> and now Thomas <em> . </em> </p><p>
  <em> Thomas… </em>
</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>
  <em> “And you are my first friend,” He said, mumbling to himself when their body laid limp dead. “Mein erster Freund”. </em>
</p><p>Pulling the goggles over his face, he coughed from the smoke. He reached over to his friend and heaved for the last time to pull them out of the plane, his hand reached over where their heart should beat. Wheezing, he decided to reach for their coat instead, pulling out any necessary photos or letters they kept on them before the eventual plane crashed. Patton remembered them mentioning to grab anything as a joke, but now the joke seemed too real for him to comprehend. The single-bare letter laid on the pocket of his coat, a photograph neatly tucked inside the letter. He struggled to breathe, and hugged his friend for a last goodbye before staggering away from the smoke. </p><p>A blast exploded in the background, and all Patton could do was run. He had to run, he had to run away from the danger. His heart tugged painfully, his mind telling him to go back, to at least die with his surely dead friend. Patton let out a soft cry to himself before coughing again, laying on the dirt ground. He turned around from what he saw, and he removed his goggles at the sight.</p><p>Fire. The blaze lit up from the crashed plane and Patton instinctively ducked when another rumble of planes flew above him. He glanced up at the sky, the red, white and blue colours painted on their places striking against the early morning sky. The air plane was returning to the direction of his airbase, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get back to the base alive. This war might not be enough to fight for anymore, but he promised his friend to remember them. He promised. </p><p>Crawling on the grassy field between the airfield and trench fighting long away, Patton left the fire and his dead friend behind, even if the thought pained him.</p><p>-*-</p><p>Blood was dry on his skin, burns replacing where his freckles would speckle his face. An outline of where his goggles should be protected his eyes from the ashes. He didn’t cry, or mourn the death of his friend during the trip back to the airbase, seemingly used to the drops of deaths happening in the squadron he resided in. Everyday a person he knew would disappear in the sky, eventually becoming a numerical statistic than a person. Soon enough he mauled over his friend, it’s unfortunate that they would meet the same fate as the hundreds of other men that fought in the air. He entered through the doors and walked through the many men crowding around the aircrafts. Many looked over Patton and a few wore surprised shocks on their faces. Did they think he died in the crash? No matter.</p><p>Opening the door wide into his sleeping quarters, he crashed onto his bed and dozed to sleep. His jacket and pilot’s cap was still worn, but Patton didn’t bring it in himself to care. He lost someone he held close to, and even the others didn’t bother to mourn over the loss, especially if they worked in their squad for so long. They both saw some come and go, but even then… Why wasn’t he crying? Or wailing, weeping, sobbing? He wanted to smile, but he felt his mouth dry up and lips wobbling whenever he wanted to smile. Why was it painful, yet no pain came out of his system? Why was it so suddenly painful to be happy? He can always deliver the letter and photos later, when he felt like leaving the bed at least. </p><p>It lasted a few hours, his shared room now too eerily quiet without his partner with him. A knock on the door sounded three times, echoing through the deathly silence. Patton laid on his bed, groaning as a response to enter but made no effort to move from his spot. He heard the footsteps collide with the concrete floor, but all he could do was close his eyes against the sound. It was too painful to move, the pain was worth more than what he deserved at this moment. Darn, he should’ve joined the pilot. No- no, the letter, the photos, that’s his responsibility-</p><p>A click on the floor alarmed Patton of the other person’s presence, the boots clipping too happy for a war. Did his boss replace them already? Must be a quick word around the base then. Patton didn’t know if it was a good thing or not anymore, nor did he decide to care. They’re dead, it’s worthless, <em> it’s over, they’re gone, they’re dead, they’re- </em></p><p>“Lieutenant Pattice, Sir. I am your new pilot,” The other saluted, the boot clicking again as Patton curled up further on his bed. Covering the heavy blanket on him as much as possible, he grumbled to himself while ignoring the new pilot. Replacements, such great insight from his supervisor of this company. Patton contemplated whether or not he should correct the new pilot, deciding against it for that now wasn’t the best time. The other realised that Patton wouldn’t return the salute and frowned to himself before throwing his belongings on the empty bed. He just wanted to sleep forever. </p><p>“I heard from the others that um, that the last one died…” He said, unfolding a shirt in the meantime. “I want to say sorry for the loss,”</p><p>Patton rolled his eyes under the cover. “You haven’t been here long, have you?” He spat. The pilot reeled back from the sarcastic response, never expecting the gunner to speak. He thought the man was meant to be kind, the only happy source in this base. Did the other pilot just die or something?</p><p>“No, I just came today, sir,”</p><p>Patton scoffed. Speaking got too tiring for him, and fell asleep again for another restless slumber. He wondered though, would he ever sleep again?</p><p>-*-</p><p>After pacing down the streets of France and sending both the letter and photo back to the pilot’s parents, Patton returned towards his journey back to the base. Holding the umbrella above him, he sighed as he walked back in the rain. He asked his commanding chief earlier if he could send the photos away upon their wishes and was given an hour’s leave before reporting back to headquarters for further instructions. The new annoying pilot pestered him to get out of bed before, and he only grudgingly made the effort. He didn’t want to get up from bed, or the matter he couldn’t. </p><p>There was no energy to do anything, and everything he did seemed futile anyway. A small drip of guilt resided in his guts when he remembered the rookie pilot cleaned the ash and dry blood from his face, or when he laid out fresh clothes everyday when Patton couldn’t do anything. He probably stunk, and he wouldn’t be surprised if infection grew inside his body after everything blows over. Was this feeling the deadly result of the war everyone warned others about? Sure, he didn’t bother attending dinner meetings anymore and was growing hungry every passing moment, or still huddled in his bed for a few days until someone else took action to fight for him. He was given at least a week to grieve over the loss, but time felt longer than before. </p><p>Patton didn’t realise he made it back to the base until he took a quick glance at the planes littering the grass. Memories flooded inside his mind from when he entered the base for the first time, when he and his friend left fresh from Flight school to participate in the war effort. It felt like a long time ago, and he supposed it was. The concept of time didn’t bother him anymore. It doesn’t bother anyone in the base anymore. Patton was the oldest surviving and possibly last person in his original regiment to fall under the deadly curse, aside from the new rookies who were too overly excited for a pointless, dangerous battlefield. </p><p>Speaking of; the newest pilot spotted him as he clicked photos from his camera and grinned towards Patton, beckoning him to come over. Patton knew the kid didn’t fly yet, for the wet weather outside had made it impossible to fly and the fact he was Patton’s unofficial caregiver for the time being. Even when he had a chance to join the others, he always stayed with the quiet gunner. Patton never knew why he didn’t leave him alone, to leave him be. </p><p>More guilt dripped from the prospect that he’s a burden to the boy, but some optimism and justice told him that he’s protecting him instead, when he couldn’t protect himself from his own demons inside his mind. The odds and statistics documented were too big for pilots in his regiment, and it was rare everyone who flew would come back alive to the base. At least he’s keeping the naive pilot alive for a little longer, but Patton felt as if it would be torture if he did live through this horror, a traumatic experience for sure. The pilot should live a little longer anyway. They had more to live for, more than the pathetic fragile state Patton sunk into.</p><p>Everyone speculated tomorrow would be the clear skies, and many were eager to see the cotton puffs of clouds above them when they glided in the air. Patton resented the statement instead. He didn’t want to fight for something so meaningless, pointless to where he fought. Heck, he didn’t even choose this, to fight, but if he wanted the opportunity to fight on the ground or air, he chose the latter. Oh, how wrong was he? He supposed he was like the pilot himself. Naive. Innocent. <em>Pathetic.</em></p><p>Patton figured he could at least continue going and play his role as the shooter, protecting the others at least and join mindlessly to protect the country, despite his efforts meaning nothing to the war effort to this point. If someone shot a bullet through him, then it’s just their luck. Patton stalled when he walked, eventually approaching the man with a fake smile on his face. He mustered the effort to grin at him, but it was still smaller than his usual light. Why is it so painful to smile? It hurts, yet he’s not badly injured.</p><p>Right?</p><p>“Lieutenant Pattice, have you heard the news about tomorrow?” His eyes shone with excitement, but Patton looked back at him in boredom. Empty.</p><p>“Is it about the weather?” He asked, already knowing the answer. The other nodded and dug into their pockets, pulling out different photographs. Layering it on the table, he separated each one and glanced at Patton again.</p><p>“I’ve seen you a little depressed lately, and figured that I could do more,”</p><p>That stung inside, he wouldn’t lie. They’re already doing so much for Patton.</p><p>“Kiddo, You’re already doing enough for me. Why are you doing this?” He said. “Is there a gain you want? I’m afraid I can’t give you anything,”</p><p>He fiddled with his camera as Patton tilted his head. Sighing, he nodded before picking up a photo he captured of himself in uniform, were the people surrounding him his brothers?</p><p>“I want to be friends- I thought that after their death, you’ll want proper company,” He admitted, “I brought out my photos from my home, maybe bond? I dunno, it’s a stupid idea-”</p><p>Patton sat down beside the man, picking a different photo up and admiring the photography skills. Interrupting them, he blankly stared at them again before sniffling, rubbing his thumb over the image. </p><p>“It’s not a stupid idea…” He mumbled. “It was just too fast for me to process, one second I shot down a plane and the next I found ours crashing down. I-I guess I’m just,”</p><p>“You’re scared of forgetting them? The pilot?” </p><p>He felt his body slowly relaxing after confessing a part of his worries, the muscles tensed for days finally finding its slight relief. The pilot didn’t have a bite to attack with, and he sounded as if he cared about Patton and his bothersome thoughts. He cared.</p><p>“I am very scared,” He chucked. “Who might you be anyway, comrade?” He asked instead, the glossy feeling of the photo soothing him for a quiet moment.</p><p>“Thomas Sanders, sir,” He held his hand out to shake. Patton decided for once to welcome him to his mess of the war, and he felt he could really smile at Thomas.</p><p>“Pattice Walds, but you call me Patton, okay kiddo?” He shook his hand, preparing themselves for tomorrow’s skies ahead. </p><p>-*-</p><p>The screams and battle cries from below them were an unsettling silence compared to the drilling of the propellers as they flew across the clear skies. Patton held the weapon steady in his grip as Thomas piloted the plane over the sea of men below them. Their battalion was only made for photographing images of trenches, capturing the enemy’s plans from above. Another plane flew beside them as they rode, capturing the same photos. Sparks of explosions and barbed wire decorated the gap between trenches, the Western front. It was a year after their death before Patton could experience the thrill of flying again, with the help of his new friend, Thomas. </p><p>It took a while, but Patton’s eyes were determined as he scouted for planes in the sky. Thomas cheered from the front as he made the plane do a loop, Patton joining his enthusiasm as they hollered in laughter. A beautiful, fun day for the boys above and below. The both of them continued this routine a few days every week. Patton shot planes down coming their way with expertise, and Thomas would always fly them to safety. Neither ever thought they would survive after the war, and certainly not to survive and return to civilian life. </p><p>
  <em> Well, Patton survived for civilian life anyway. </em>
</p><p>-*-</p><p>“15 years of recovery, and history really did repeat itself,” Patton spoke to himself, laying on his cabin bed. Tilting his head towards the assortment of bags he brought with him, he spotted the case with his personal belongings and his satchel. Getting off the bed, he grabbed a different briefcase and opened the latch. History may have repeated itself… a death of a friend, the few moments of grief and a sudden new friend, but there was always something else. A different mission from the war.</p><p>He saw the many different passports of his English name resting on the pocket of his case, and the various weapons decorating the inside room left in the luggage. He didn’t want to use the weapons, and remembered he made it specifically clear to tell his colleagues to forget the guns. He wasn’t sent to assassinate or shoot unless necessary, but to merely observe the train and it’s rumoured contents. It reminded him too much of his duties during the war. Why is he looking inside the case? he also had no clue. An uncomfortable gut feeling irked his insides for a few days after the death, and he finally cleared his thoughts before facing the weapons inside his case; he figured he could check inside. Quickly counting the items, he double checked his numbers before his blood ran cold at the thought.</p><p>“I’m counting 14 in here…” He mumbled to himself. “And there’s meant to be 15…” </p><p>
  <em> What did I do with my missing pistol? </em>
</p><p>-*-</p><p>
  <em> Thomas ran away from the first shot that was blasted from the barrel, and crumbled on the ground from the second shot. He squinted his eyes against the dark, the glint of the metallic silver shone from the light in the hallway. The murderer decided then to walk inside the room and closed the door from behind, but it was enough time for Thomas to properly inspect and recognise the gun in their hands.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are you doing with that gun you got there?” He chuckled, wondering if this would buy enough time for him to live, or think about what he could do with the treasure’s key. The murderer fiddled with the trigger before hearing nothing but an empty click. Soon enough they opened the window and threw the useless gun out, grabbing their own from their coat and smirked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This should suffice,” The killer said, shooting on the wall for emphasis when Thomas scrambled off the floor to run. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello: Author's note :)</p><p>Nothing bad, but an explanation that there might be filler chapters in this story to break from the murder in the train, and explore different character's in the story.</p><p>(who knows, maybe it also contributes to the story? w o o s h-)</p><p>Have fun lads-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. - Chapter 10 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Curse word - thanks Remus, body imagery, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Read until the end for Author Notes,</p><p>That is all - this has been a PSA.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It has been a few days since he last saw Patton, and Logan decided that it was a good time to walk to the now commons room and take a break from working. Usually, he is stubborn with breaks, and with a deadline this close it was a harsh decision. He also knew that doing something continuously eventually burns energy, and if he socialised with the others during the time of the murder than he would still contribute to his case, he just wouldn't be as heavily involved with it for the time being. It’s what he told himself anyway, an attempt to ease the stress that can easily overpower his thoughts any day. </p><p>Entering upon the room, he noticed Virgil sitting down on the dining table chatting to Roman. A different sight compared to the few he would see everyday, but then again, he hasn't seen anyone for a while. He spent a few days in his room, the staff member occasionally visiting and Janus keeping him company a few times during his absence. It was nice talking to Janus sometimes, someone who he can converse with in both English and French whilst talking about common interests. He wasn’t Patton, but Logan felt himself growing to the other, like a friend. </p><p>Both instances were nice relievers, but weren’t enough to satisfy his mind. Of course, he saw Patton with both Remy and Emile, conversing about a topic Remy would’ve brought out for the case. Neither Janus or Remus were in the room, and Logan concluded that Janus might be in his room resting, and Remus checking over the autopsy report the detective asked just a few days earlier. The detective concluded that Thomas died from a gun fire, that the killer wanted a key from the keeper since nothing valuable was stolen from the scene, instead tampered with earlier. The buzzing news of the mysterious treasure hidden on the train hasn't reached ears yet, the idea being everyone hears the news until Logan has talked to at least everyone, or better yet, when the detective finds the murderer. </p><p>Reviewing the notes in his head, he mentally analysed his findings so far. </p><p>
  <em> There is a potential key hiding somewhere in the crime scene, and Thomas’ body has been removed in courtesy of Virgil and Remus. The scene was messy with clothing and is later piled more cleanly, meaning the murderer had returned later to the scene. Thomas’ carriage is isolated from the others, and the weapon is nowhere in sight. Six bullets, and six people. Emile is too devastated by the idea, Remy and Virgil being workers, and Patton is friends with the man. The possibility of everyone being the murderer can be deduced, but still… Patton and Virgil could still commit the crime, as well as Janus, Remus or Roman even… I cannot judge, but only direct my findings with evidence, for that emotional play does not matter in this scenario or my life regardless. Icky, complicated feelings, this job would be easier without them... </em>
</p><p>Logan felt his body physically shiver when he thought about feelings, but instead hummed in thought while staring at his drink, staying far away from the alcohol provided at the moment. The memories were far too strong for him to emotionally control himself, and he internally cringed when he recollected snippets of the night. Embarrassment seethed inside him, and he groaned whilst thinking about the consequences. A man sat down next to him while holding his plush doll and slid the toy to Logan, noticing Logan’s resentment. Emile was fidgety on his seat, but looked remarkably better than the days prior. Logan would have to revise how many days he has left, but assumed he had at least a fortnight left before the train arrived at its final destination. Two weeks to uncover the crime, while investigating the holy treasure inside the train. It seemed to be the motive at least, and Logan should start the investigation at some point too.</p><p>“Are you feeling better, Mister Logan?” Emile asked, twirling the wavy strands of hair in his fingers. Logan sighed as a response, shaking his head.</p><p>“Are you feeling better, Mister Picani?” He said instead. Giving the toy back to him, Emile held his hand out before pushing it back to Logan.</p><p>“I’m fine, Mister Logan, just… You’re stressed, and sometimes you just need someone or something to hug, y’know?”</p><p>Logan raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. Emile sighed while patting his shoulder, leaning forwards on his seat. “I’m better, but not great,”</p><p>“Hm,” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Better enough to remember, in memory, of course,”</p><p>The plush doll laid hopelessly on Logan’s hand, and he placed it down on the table. Facing Emile better, his wooden leg limped with his other resting against the chair leg. Glancing over the toy, he noticed the black and white scheme, red shorts with yellow buttons and circular ears? A small hat was sewn on top of its head, and a button nose was nestled on its face. It looked new, compared to the typical ragged dolls Logan would find in some crime scenes - no evidence of damage has affected the toy; like as if it was made by a professional. Emile seemed to cherish it a lot more lately, whether it was an emotional diffuser or a present. He seemed to read Logan’s mind, and he instantly smiled from the day he received the toy.</p><p>“It’s Walt Disney’s Mickey Mouse!” He giggled. It wasn’t similar to Patton’s joyful laughter, but he sounded happy regardless. “I saw the animation one time when Remy and I worked together a few years ago and I gushed over the new mouse. He must’ve liked the animation too, because he made the doll for me,”</p><p>“Remy?” Logan asked, “The ‘oh mighty’ Remington Smith, made you a doll plush? Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?” He asked, quietly chuckling when Emile shoved him playfully. They both glanced towards Remy talking to Patton, and Logan smirked when he saw Emile staring at him a little longer with the hope in his eyes. </p><p>He leaned over to him, whispering, “So how did the sweet Emile Picani accept this gift?”</p><p>Adjusting his oval-shaped glasses, Emile looked around while remembering the memory.</p><p>“When Rems made the doll, he was at home sick in Britain while I was working in the train line from Austria to Denmark. Thomas visited Remy for a few days and was going to travel to Denmark for his photography career via Austria, and I stayed temporarily in Austria anyway. So? Rem wanted him to give me the present since the neither of us knew when I would come back to Britain. It was funny, because he was scared that the postman would’ve destroyed the plush in the parcel,” Emile giggled fondly, picking the toy up and hugging it in his arms. “He was so proud of the doll, and I was amazed by his sowing skills,”</p><p>Logan leaned back on his seat, admiring the patch work of the doll. If he had to be honest, it did look professionally done. Perhaps he’d have to get dirt on Remy of his hidden hobby; Virgil can join him during the interrogation. He would be upset if he missed out on something this good, especially if it involved Remy. </p><p>“You mentioned Thomas; what is he like?” He asked casually, diverting his gaze away. Emile tapped his chin while in thought, his other hand sitting on his lap with the toy in his hand.</p><p>“He… he was a nice guy. Truly, a nice guy. There was something about him that I never thought would be his downfall, and if you asked anyone else in this train they would agree with you,”</p><p>“And that was?”</p><p>Emily stared at him seriously, and Logan was taken aback from the expression the other mustered.</p><p>“He would always keep his promises,</p><p>Blinking from the response, Logan kept that detail locked in his mind before Emile smiled again, getting up from his seat. “Logan, between you and me, I’m not stupid,”</p><p>“Of course not,” He replied. Emile blankly looked at him again, pulling down on his work sweater and brushed the hair from his face. </p><p>“Well, I hope I’m not, I was studying as a doctor after all. But lemme tell you this, Monsieur. Friends or not, I don’t appreciate being investigated on when the bestest friend of mine just died. See you when you need me,” He walked off to Remy and Patton, sitting back down with them while they both laughed hard, presumably from a joke Patton told. Something sat uncomfortably with Logan, and he watched the wall instead of thinking about Emile’s last line. It churned in him, and it wasn’t the same as Patton’s butterflies. He didn’t like it, he wanted this feeling to leave. Is this guilt?</p><p>Quickly as it came, the door busted open and Remus ran inside, puffing as he held a file in his hands. Glancing at Logan, he huffed before standing tall and waved the file towards the ‘undercover’ detective. Remy noticed what happened before Patton could register the scene, babbling on to another new topic while Remus stood his position to face away from Patton. Seeing Janus nowhere in sight, Remus directed the detective outside the common room and spoke to him outside.</p><p>“Logan, you know I’m not a coroner and when you asked me those few days ago I was fine, I think?”</p><p>“I’m well aware-”</p><p>“And you know whatever I say now is purely from books and my limited knowledge?”</p><p>“Yes Remus. That’s why I called for you for this after all-”</p><p>“Right, because I really want to show you what I found and full fairness, I should’ve been your last decision since I spilled my unnecessary trauma on you-”</p><p>“Get to it Remus,” Logan sighed, a headache figuratively forming while Remus talked. He really needs to find his filter one day.</p><p>“Okay. So, you’re aware of the four bullet wounds yeah? Right, there’s one on his left leg, another in his left shoulder and two located on his left side of the chest,” He sounded giddy when he explained the news, his voice pitching higher with each word. </p><p>Nodding, Logan mentally noted the information while overlooking the file and ignored Remus’ happiness. There was a photo of Thomas’ ghost paled face, and the accompanying photos with the wounds. Unfortunately, it was only all black and white, the camera quality blurring the important information like bruises or scratches. It was too dark for Logan to indicate anything but the blood and bruised wounds, but he supposed it should suffice as a report. Scrawled in Remus’ messy handwriting, he saw the small notes written on the margins of anything else he discovered during his reporting. </p><p>“There were no bullet piercings through the body, in case you were wondering,” Remus supplied, flipping the page to where it described the bullet punching in great detail. Logan read through the page as Remus waited patiently for a response, skimming through the mass amount of words in the page. Remus might’ve been too good at his job.</p><p>“Did you measure the depth of the holes?” He asked, scanning the page for any measurements. Remus leaned forward and flipped to another page where he calculated the information.</p><p>“They were quite deep, but not close enough to pierce the victim properly. Does this suggest the killer shot from a distance?” Turning to the next page, he found the proper autopsy report and carefully noted each word. </p><p>
  <em> 26th October, 1930 - Time of death: 17:40-18:00 </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cause of death: 2 Bullet wounds to the chest, puncturing the heart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Body description:  One bullet wound on the left shoulder, another on the left thigh. Infection spread days after the body, but is concluded that it grew from the unattended wounds. Flesh around the bullet piercings discoloured and yellow in colour, infection spreading in approx. 3 days since time of death. Bruises found on the right elbow and side knee of his body, a scratch on his forearm.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Notes:  </em>
</p><ul>
<li><em>2 different kinds of bullets were found, one golden bullet with rose gold cap tips suggested from a M1911 pistol. </em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li>Three golden bullets with silver cap tips suggested from a Colt pistol. </li>
</ul><ul>
<li>The Victim swallowed a key.</li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Logan blinked from the last note, slowly staring at Remus in shock as he stood there, the other biting his nail. “What?”</p><p>“Remus, where is the key?” He asked carefully. Twiddling his moustache, Remus grinned as he leaned against the wall. The white apron and green shirt covered in blood struck in the air after he moved, and Logan resisted the urge to cringe from the stench. It reminded him too much of <em> then. </em></p><p>“The key? Why would you need the key? Actually, I found it a miracle the man could swallow the key. Should stuff him with something else instead, would drugs work? Oh, what about another gun?” </p><p>Unfazed, Logan crossed his arms while glaring up at the taller stinky man. “Why should I tell you about a key? It’s none of your business in the first place,”</p><p>“Actually Logan it is my business since I found it in the victim’s soon-to-be business,” He laughed. “You know what the key is for, so spill bladder brain,”</p><p>Snapping the file shut, Logan ignored Remus’ comment and started walking off to his room to reevaluate his case. He can have a break another day, especially now since he has a new piece of evidence. </p><p>“You know what, Remus? Don’t tell me where the key is, I’ll figure out where it is,” He tapped his nose and smirked. Remus’ mouth hung opened, looking dejected by his comment. Was he hurt?</p><p>“Fine,” Remus spat, looking away and huffing in frustration. “Don’t bother telling me anything, especially after spilling my guts to you AND doing a fucking autopsy case for you,”</p><p>Storming off to another room, Logan shrugged and continued his journey back to his room. It was probably nothing.</p><p>-*-</p><p>Remy returned back to the kitchen to prepare the meal for dinner, and Emile went back to his working quarters and organised the rooms, making sure everything was clean. Meanwhile, Virgil ate his lunch by himself with Patton relaxing on the couch. Roman left a while ago to maintain his boredom, whether it was reading, painting or ‘slaying the dragon witch’ (Virgil knew this meant his fencing hobby). Nomming on his sandwich, Virgil sat content as he relaxed with his food. Patton wanted to go over to him and create a conversation. He didn’t mind knowing the boy a little more since a few nights ago, maybe he’ll create a new bond between them too in the meantime. Jumping out of his seat, he hopped towards Virgil and sat down in front of him, missing the sudden shock from the other.</p><p>“Hey, remember me?” He asked. Virgil gulped his food down, waving his hand away as he glanced in a different direction.</p><p>“I see you didn’t get my threat?” Sarcasm loomed in his voice, and Patton giggled.</p><p>“It was a little empty. Teeny-weeny empty,” </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Virgil finished his sandwich and crossed his legs, leaning his elbow on the table. “So, what are you here for? What’s your mission?”</p><p>“Mission?” Patton furrowed. “What mission? I just wanna talk with you, get a good ol’ conversation going. Like buds!”</p><p>“Buds?”</p><p>Nodding, Patton cracked a grin. “Yeah. I should at least know everyone on this train-”</p><p>“So you want to know the killer?” He scoffed, “Or do you wanna butter everyone up so they’re convinced you are not the murderer?”</p><p>Patton bit his lip from the comment, and drummed his fingers on the table to distract himself before speaking again. Mustering up his innocent act, he pouted instead. “Why do you think I’m the murderer so much? Why don’t you trust me, sir?”</p><p>Virgil shrugged. “Simple, I don’t trust anyone,”</p><p>“Even Logan?” A reaction sparked from Virgil, his shoulders touching his sides and he made his posture smaller. Shuffling on his seat, he nodded his head from side to side, considering the question before giving an answer.</p><p>“I trust him, we’ve been friends for a little while,” He said</p><p>“How long is ‘a little while’?” Patton tilted his head. Virgil focused his eyes to Patton, mumbling to himself. </p><p>“Shorter after the war. Someone had to make sure he wasn’t an alcoholic like the others who fought,”</p><p>Something clicked inside Patton’s head, a small sign of recognition flashed through his face. “He fought in the Great War?”</p><p>“Suppose so, only fought for a little while but it still happened. I didn’t believe him at first but- well, he fought and there’s that. I’m not going to say anything else,” He finished. “Thought you’ll know that when you both spoke together in French. He tends to sob about his trauma when he’s drunk - it’s why someone has to be there with him whenever he touches a wine bottle,”</p><p>“Oh,” Patton said. “I didn’t know he actually fought in it, but rather thought the Germans were invading during his um, shock?”</p><p>Sighing, Virgil changed his position on his seat to sitting sideways. His posture looked less tense, and Patton saw this as a success. “It’s not my place to say about what happened to him, but figured you should at least know he’s a veteran,”</p><p>“Wait, wait- he’s not an alcoholic?” Patton asked instead, tilting his head. Virgil laughed, shaking his head at the thought.</p><p>“Him? God, I hope not. The man cannot hold his liquor, even after one glass. He tried to get me drunk first, but got himself tipsy instead. I doubt he’ll ever become one, it’s very rare he’ll drink anyway, let alone get wasted like that night,”</p><p>The sound of the door creaking open bounced through the empty cabin walls. Janus walked in with his satchel bag and pen rested behind his ear, wearing his all-common smirk towards the pair. </p><p>“Did I hear someone getting drunk? Do tell,” He said, inviting himself to sit down with the chatty group. Glaring at him, Virgil shot up from his seat and stomped away from Janus, arriving at the door where the driver’s station was located in the noisy steam train. Swinging that door opened, he peered at Janus before giving Patton a glance. An apology.  </p><p>“I should return to work,” He said. “Sir? I think you’re somewhat nice to talk to, but for the love of god don’t let that slimy snake butter you up. Him - that journalist means trouble,”</p><p>“As if, Virgil. If anything bad happened to sweet, oh so dear, lovely Patton here, at least I can protect myself. With your claim of trouble, I wouldn’t know if the murderer could kill us - oh wait, he can’t even hold the damn weapon,“ He sneered. “Just ignore Virgil’s… eccentrics, excuse him for the time being,”</p><p>Grumbling, Virgil opened the door and stepped through, slamming it shut in the process. Patton jumped from the loud noise, but Janus seemed unfazed by the sound. Returning to Patton instead, he adjusted his yellow gloves and monocle, holding his hand out for a shake.</p><p>“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself to you, Patton, despite me knowing you,” He said. “I’m Janus Tromperie,”</p><p>“Nice to meet you…” He shook his hand in return. “My full name, Patton Waldswood,”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello,</p><p>So, this week has been busy and unfortunately the dreaded writers block has finally arrived. We have another chapter ready to publish for next week, but unless the few chapters currently being written would be finished by next week, then unfortunately the next chapter will be delayed until the few chapters can be finished. Here's to hope that the chapters would be finished, but until then - see you all in either next week or a few weeks later,</p><p>Author.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. - Chapter 11 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Mentions of a dead body, signs of manipulation/unhealthy behaviours, panic attack</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, this is a day late and there's nothing to say about why it's a day late except for one word: Hamilton.</p><p>You may continue-</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sorting through the autopsy report and the small bundle of evidence he collected so far, Logan fiddled with his pen as he worked. He can take a break another day, especially if he has something like the autopsy report file in his grasp. If he was diligent enough, he could figure out the murder now and the suspicious treasure later. The last time he checked, the train was travelling through the tunnels at the edge of Finland, entering the USSR (Russia) soon. A week and a half has passed during his investigation, and he fears that more days will creep by when they circle around the eastern border of Russia. </p><p>He studied the files carefully, jotting down any information on the gun and bullets retracted from the body. A pistol was identified as the murder weapon and not a rifle, so it would have to be hidden before the murderer walked on the train. Keeping a mental note to ask Roman later if any of the staff can bring their own guns, he knew passengers were allowed to bring their own guns onto the train. He also kept in mind about where the bullets were, still not certain if the six bullets fired were intentional or not. If it was intentional, then it would be a shame if he couldn’t figure out the one murderer from any of the six main attendees sitting on the train. Another thing for Logan to consider, would their motives be strong enough to commit the crime? </p><p>A few days ago he searched the crime scene for any weapons in Thomas’ cabin, only to later realise that one of the murder weapons, or both could be thrown out of the window. Looking at the bullets extracted, he hummed to himself while looking at the two plucked from the wall and the rest photographed from the body. It was what Logan has concluded thus far, anyway. A few small notes from Remus’ extensive knowledge of gun types and the dead body, but it wasn't as if the detective was complaining about the extra work Remus has done. The detective would’ve figured out about the different guns based on the bullet shape and colour, or the body’s discolouring. He is skilled in the area, but he supposed it meant less work for the detective, as it separated more time to find the motive the killer was processed to discover. Writing notes beside the report file onto his notebook, he flipped a few pages as he worked peacefully. Logan documented the opinions from who he gathered so far about the victim, and crossed down the names of the potential killer when he thought critically. </p><p>Unfortunately for him, he could only cross out a few names. Roman and Remus were ruled out as culprits, never thinking that either of them could ever harm their father’s business. They both loved their father too much, and they’re aware a detective is on the train with them, as they invited Logan themselves. Emile was far too grief stricken, even if he looked physically okay just a mere few hours ago. He knew the wrong word could send the fragile mind back into a depression. As much as he didn’t want to, Virgil and Remy were potential culprits, with both employees knowing about the treasure and gaining a low pay wage compared to everyone else on the train. Even Patton was gaining a higher pay, and the detective wrote him down as a librarian. He would only rule them out through alibis and whether or not they have access to the weapon. Logan drew these observations down on the page, and glanced at the time to see how much time passed. 16:54, nearly 5 hours since lunch passed.</p><p>Soon enough he would go back to the common room and meet everyone again. Writing Janus and Patton’s names down, he grabbed a spare piece of paper from another book and wrote their names again to document who they were as proper witnesses to give as evidence. Gathering similar to character profiles, he documented Janus’ book of notes, leaving him to last to see what he would have written in the past few days. There was small information about Patton, compared to Janus, and he realised that he still knew little to nothing about Patton or Janus. It was a little worrying, to say the least. </p><p>Sighing, he stared at Patton’s name. Patton, Patton, Patton; why did it intrigue him? He drew his initials beside Patton’s own on the page and felt a flip in his gut from doing so. Why did he also write his own initials? It was the first thing that came to his mind and wanted to find out what happened if he did. Thinking, he zoned out his hearing to check if anyone was passing by his carriage and was satisfied when little business was made outside. Ensuring that nobody would enter, he doodled a small love heart next to Patton’s name. He knew full well that these papers wouldn’t be submitted as evidence, and he couldn’t help but draw more around his name. Eventually he got himself distracted from his work and instead did pen sketches on his notes, passing the time effectively without realising. </p><p>Logan paid little no attention to his surroundings by this point, and never realised someone walked in his room. Roman saw his bedroom door slightly opened while he walked past the corridor and went to investigate if Logan was okay, as he always closed the door. Wearing his white shirt and red bow-tie, he decided to wear a red jumper to keep himself warm from Russia’s chilly climate. His friend wore his detective coat on, to pass by the cold air. Roman controlled his laughter when he realised what Logan was doing in his research papers, being close enough to see what the sketches were, or whom of.</p><p>“You got it bad, so bad…” Roman said, effectively scaring Logan from his drawings and moved to hiding them instead. Adjusting his clothing and glasses, Logan huffed while looking back at Roman. </p><p>“I don’t know what you mean, there’s nothing bad happening here,” He muttered to himself swiftly,glancing away from Roman and felt the heat inside his body warming intensely, despite being extremely chilly inside. </p><p>“Your face says otherwise, Monsieur ‘I’m so cool, not even I can ever catch feelings.’” He smirked, sitting across from Logan. Crossing his legs, he swayed side to side as Logan quirked an eyebrow at the sudden behaviour. “What, am I not allowed to visit a good friend of mine?” He asked. Logan shook his head, closing the lid of his pen and turned his attention to Roman instead.</p><p>“No, there’s nothing wrong with seeing a friend, but I do like to hear from you again, Roman,”</p><p>“As like about the case or just one-on-one?”</p><p>“Whatever you like,” He said. Roman twiddled with his fingers in thought, humming about what he could do. </p><p>“I got time to kill, and I think you’ll want to hear about the case before we gossip as that does take longer,” He smirked. “Gossip about our crushes?” Winking at Logan when he mentioned the topic. Ignoring Roman for the time being, he opened the reporting book again and waited until Roman was ready to talk.</p><p>“Fine, okay. So, Remy suggested I sweeten up Janus a little, and oh my. He is like, the nicest guy ever? He would always compliment me and ask about my day. He’s honestly the sweetest,” He gushed over Janus, and sighed whenever he thought about him. Waiting impatiently, Logan cleared his throat for attention before Roman went back to the real world. “Apologies Logan, I just seriously don’t think he’s the murderer,”</p><p>“Do you have concrete evidence or is it because ‘he’s the sweetest guy on this planet?’ Roman, you have to remember this is a murder investigation, I need every piece of evidence,” Logan said. Seeming disappointed, Roman flicked with his bow tie and yawned instead. Rummaging through his pockets, he pulled out a pen and threw it at Logan, who fumbled with the object before letting it fall on the ground.</p><p>“How’s this for concrete evidence, detective?” He cheered to himself, smirking as Logan hastily made his way to grabbing the thing. Questioning why Roman gave him a pen, he studied it before opening the lid, seeing it as a normal pen. Thinking carefully, he fiddled with the screws and ink, unscrewing the cartilage and humming at the note hidden inside. Picking the note carefully from the pen barrel, he screwed the lid back and rested it on his table as evidence.</p><p>“Where did you get this, and what is it for?” He asked Roman, gently unfolding the note and ensured there was no damage done to the letter. It was remarkable how it wasn’t damaged, and it was still pristine condition. </p><p>“I think it’s a love note, but it’s not exactly love but a break up? I don’t really know, but he spoke before about how he kept important letters inside his pens and carried the fair few with him whenever he travelled. I’m not sure which one I took from him so…”</p><p>Reading the chicken-scratch handwriting of the mysterious sender, he peered through the note and reread it again for any information. It was addressed to Janus, but it was a shock to see who the writer was.</p><p>“Roman, this is Virgil’s writing. Why did he write to Janus, I thought he hated him?” That got Roman’s attention. Sitting straight on the bed, Roman peered over to the letter writing and snatched the letter from Logan’s hands, reading the note in disbelief. “No… That’s impossible, Virgil hates everyone, and Janus doesn’t like Virgil much either… No… No, do you think they’re in a secret relationship? Oh, god Logan - it’s already hard to love another man, but a taken guy? Virgil? I-” Roman sniffled, “I loved him, I’ve loved him for so many years, he can’t-”</p><p>“Roman?” Logan asked, “You haven’t read this yet, yes?”</p><p>“I don’t think it matters anymore, what if it’s just an act? It makes so much sense-”</p><p>“No, Roman, it’s a breakup letter,” He finished, pointing to the note as he carefully took it from Roman’s clammy hands. “It talked about how, and I quote-” adjusting his glasses again, “<em> ‘... I cannot share the same feelings you had for me that I could give to you. Your dedication to seeing me whenever I work on this train line is impressive, and your commitment of being my friend is more impressive, but I’m sorry that I can’t give back what you give for me. Yes, I am the same as you, but my feelings also belong to someone else…’ </em>? Oh look Roman, you still got a chance,” Logan folded the letter and kneaded it back to the pen.</p><p>“No I don’t, this means he likes someone else, and it’s not gonna be me,” He whined. </p><p>Ignoring Roman’s cries of love, Logan leaned back on his chair and raised an eyebrow at Roman. “Roman?”</p><p>“Yeah?” He muttered to himself, too upset to talk about anything else for the moment being. Logan wasn’t going to tolerate it, and instead focused on the case until they could talk about different conversations together.</p><p>“What did that letter have to do with the case?”</p><p>Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes as a response. “Well sorry for nearly dying when Janus almost caught me grabbing his pen stash, I was trying to find a specific letter about your case; but this? No, this is more important-”</p><p>“No it isn’t. What is the specific letter you mention, shall I ask?”</p><p>Grumbling to himself, Roman turned away from Logan and crossed his arms. “He said he was a journalist, and there was an article about a treasure thing he wanted to find? I dunno anymore… I’ll just take my leave,”</p><p>“Roman? Are you feeling alright? Your behaviour just changed dramatically whilst talking about this case and-</p><p>“No, no it’s fine ‘Mister detective’, you go work by yourself. I think I’ve finished snooping around with Remy. You’re so keen with working, I think I’ll leave you to it,” Jumping off the bed, Roman quickly brushed down his jumper and frowned when he saw Logan. Logan stood from his chair and leaned his weight onto his right leg, standing against the taller man. Frowning, he adjusted his glasses and attached the buttons of the black, long woolly coat, pulling it closer to cover the cool air trapped inside. Glancing at Roman, he decided to open his arms out to him instead. </p><p>“Do you want a hug instead? A form of comfort?” He asked. Logan usually didn’t do sediments or physical affection, Roman knew this too. The detective only did it when he didn’t want the other to be upset, or cry… to feel better. Thinking about what he said and the pen he carried for Logan to use as evidence, Roman couldn’t help but feeling like running away. He almost - and his dramatics said he quite literally could have died - when Janus was looking for the pen he stole. It was his privacy, his secrets, and no amount of dirt or guilt can spare Roman for doing such a thing, especially when Janus has been nothing but kind to him. </p><p>Heck, he was even nicer than Virgil, the guy he liked for Shakespeare’s sake. Doesn’t Logan feel guilty sometimes? Didn’t he feel some form of regret whenever he told his friends to do these things to him? He knew that Roman didn’t like this, not one bit. Roman wanted to help his friend out with this case, but he never agreed to <em> this </em>.</p><p>“Logan, you know fully well that I don’t like doing things like <em> stealing </em>- or- or any of this,” He said, itching his way towards the door. “You know why. You fully know why I don’t like stealing, You know all this - I don’t want in on this anymore. I don’t want a part of your case,”</p><p>“Roman, you need to try again and find another pen like this, you need to find that letter from Janus-”</p><p>“N-no, you’re not understanding me, you don’t want to understand me,” He whispered, a slow realisation filling his mind. <em> It’s like last time, it’s happening again- </em></p><p>“I-I need to leave” Roman said quickly, bumping on the door while he jiggled the knob to leave. Logan looked on with a puzzled expression, but Roman knew he had to leave as fast as possible. He knew his breathing was fast and the thoughts were even quicker, but as he ran towards his room and locked it from behind, he knew by then he could let the small tears drop from his unhealthy breathing. Remembering what Virgil taught him whenever he felt this way, his chest hitched from every breath he took.</p><p>
  <em> “Come here, my songbird… play for me…” </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>WE FINISHED THE FEW CHAPTERS - god that took weeks to write. Now, we can upload these further and actually progress with the story.</p><p>- Author,</p><p>(By the way, Hamilton was so good y'all need to watch it-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. - Chapter 12 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Anxiety attacks, theft, poison</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alright, some important notes will be for the end and a summary of the chapter will also be provided. Note, this chapter can be read as a stand alone chapter, but if you want to read who 'the little songbird' is in explicit detail, then I suggest reading this chapter (and anything else that might be important to the story - who knows?) </p><p>Anyway, onwards to the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Roman sobbed on the floor as he cradled himself, the clicks of the train tracks soothing his thoughts. Rocking to himself on the floor, he wailed to himself as the same voice replayed in his mind like a tape recorder. A sound of the exact words kept echoing, and the volume got louder every passing moment. Logan reminded him too much of the distant voice, the experiences of Roman’s past crawling up his spine and the same behaviour his friend was demonstrating sat like a rock in his fast beating chest. ‘<em> He’ </em>only showed love whenever he wanted something from him, Logan only cared when he wanted Roman for something.</p><p>He cried harder when he thought about it longer, his past memories with Logan distorting to what he felt. Was his entire friendship fake? Did Logan really love him as a friend? Did anyone really love Roman? The red sweater he proudly wore is itching his skin, gathering too much heat for him to handle. Sweat droplets dripped from his forehead, and soon enough his own palms were petrified. </p><p>“Royal Rat, are you there?” A knock on Roman’s wooden door hollowed through his cabin room. Sniffling as his answer, Remus opened the door carefully to find a distraught Roman sobbing on his bed. Sitting down beside him on his warm, red quilt covers, Remus looked down on the carpet instead. He didn’t know anything about comforting people, his ideas unsettling them in the first place. Sighing, he glanced back at his brother before speaking what was in his mind. </p><p>“So, did you know that when you swim in the sea, you’re also swimming in whale sperm too?” He said. It was worth a shot at least. Roman squirmed from the thought, but he knew Remus was trying.</p><p>“Remus, you work with whales - why do you keep saying that-” He chuckled sadly. At least his breathing was somewhat even, thinking about the whales instead of his night- nope, nope he’s forgetting it, he’s not remembering it. Wrapping the stray, tangled hair from his own face, Remus looked back at his older brother and shifted his weight on the bed. He still wore an apron, and blood? Why was there blood? It stunk too, a metallic smell flooding Roman’s scented room instead.</p><p>“Remember when Mama liked whales? We were young, but she said they were very nice creatures,”</p><p>“Yeah, until you wanted to kill them for profit,”</p><p>Remus shrugged. “Never said I would like the whales, Roman. But, they do make decent food when you eat them” </p><p>“I’ll carry mama’s love for whales then,” His smile was small, but Remus’ eyes brightened from the sign. It was a start anyway. “Oh, remember when Mama sang her songs? She had the most beautiful voice…”</p><p>“She did, didn’t she?” Remus grimaced, looking back at the carpet floor. He wasn’t crying, like his reaction to Logan when he spoke about his late mother. Their thoughts rested with their Mama, and neither cried from the memories. Why he cried to Logan and not with anyone else, he couldn’t answer. Maybe the situation of another man’s death unsettled him and both the Suenos brothers know they struggled to bottle up feelings for such a long time, Remus anyway. He wasn’t aware Roman was like him until now, he didn’t know his brother was capable of having panic attacks. For how long he had them, it both intrigued and saddened him. How long did Roman hide them?</p><p>“Ro?” Remus spoke softly, as if he was afraid of scaring his brave, timid brother. “Why were you upset?”</p><p>“Remus, you don’t need to do-”</p><p>“Ro,” He said sternly instead. “How long have you been hiding your feelings?”</p><p>That stunned Roman. He forgot that his brother was capable of acting like- well, a friend. Sometimes, Remus forgot that Roman was the better actor than he was, and this was the case. “Did you hide your feelings like a mask the entire time? Were those moments of happiness and uhm, egotistical acts a theatre stage?” Remus huffed, knowing there was no way to skip the question. He heard Roman’s breath hitch, his red jumper moving along the sudden expression. That might be a yes.</p><p>“Remusi, you know that isn’t true, I can be happy,”</p><p>“But how would we know, Romana? Did our happiness die with Mama when that bullet pierced through her beating heart? When ‘<em> he’ </em> found us?” He asked. Remus didn’t know when, but he surged forward to his brother and held both his hands onto his. Answers, he desperately wanted answers. “Roman, how much did ‘ <em> he’ </em>hurt you?”</p><p>“Romana? Cuanto te lastimo?!”</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“... OYE, VUELVE AQUÍ BRAT!” A shopkeeper shouted, throwing her arm up in rage with a little boy hollered while sprinting away. Several apartments were busy with the residents living inside, and a few mothers were outside the balconies to hang the washing through the clothing lines connecting with other homes across the street. Many people walked on the streets, but a few ran behind the thieving boy in the hopes to catch him. Holding a loaf of bread and a small bag pouch of coins he stole, the child ran through the streets of Spain and turned through a small alley corner to escape the few people that followed from behind. A brick wall towered over the ten-year old, but the child squeezed through the small gap in between two separate buildings from above. </p><p>Crawling through the gap, he could hear the many outraged people outside, so the small boy stepped further through the crack until a small hole appeared in his line of vision. A tiny trapdoor was hidden under the few leaves and dirt that covered it, so he brushed the mess away to access the handle. Opening it was a struggle for the smaller one, as it was heavier than he considered it to be with a pouch of golden coins and loaf of bread in his hands, but he pulled on the handle until it revealed a dark corridor down below. The ladder leading down was barely noticeable, the depth of the tunnel growing darker from its lack of light. Holding the pouch of coins with his mouth, the child tucked the loaf away and climbed his way downwards towards the abyss.  </p><p>A stream of music increased in volume as the young boy crawled down further the ladder, finally jumping off when he made his stop. Turning around to the open cave from under him, many people crowded around him chatting and trading goods with each other. His boss sat on top gazing down at the markets from under him, his office suited nicely above while watching his business running. </p><p>Some say he was a good man, giving the population that knew the business some form of pay and work that no other job can give them. Others say he was a miracle worker, a faith given to everyone. However, the man knew that as much as he helped people from under him, he would gain as many enemies as loyal members of his group. He gave those without a home a place to stay, those without work a job, the desperate whatever they needed necessary. </p><p>It wasn’t an underground market, but rather a secret society that people can utilise for what they cannot afford. Others? Sometimes, their greed was more than what the cooperation can give them. </p><p>Walking through the busy crowd, the small boy weaved through towards the office room high above him and made his way to the staircase. Lamp lights shone to give those a guide to where they should go, cobblestone walls and wooden frames to keep the stairwell together. The underground had many wooden frames to keep the former mineshaft in one piece. </p><p>“Señor, I came back,” the boy came back, opening the office door with a grin on his face. </p><p>Strolling towards the massive table sitting in the middle of the room, a chair was faced away from the boy and looked directly outside below him instead. Spinning around, the older man smirked when the other planted a loaf of bread and coins on the table. Gesturing the boy to sit in front of him, he hopped on the chair and swung his legs while waiting for a conversation to strike. </p><p>“How are you, <em> my little songbird </em>?”</p><p>The boy hummed while thinking of an answer, tapping on his chin while in thought. He thought for a while, until a door slammed opened to reveal a boy similar to his age.</p><p>“Romana, te vi aqui-”</p><p>“Remusi, hola!”</p><p>Remus sat beside his brother, waving to his boss with a grin. Waving casually back at the boys, the boss observed what Roman brought back to the underground and picked up the money bag sitting on his desk. Counting the coins, he nodded with a smirk on his face, satisfied by the numbers he was calculating.</p><p>“This is a good 500 pesos, Roman. I’ll let you keep the bread loaf if you like,” </p><p>“Actually, I was kinda… I was going to ask if I could have the money instead so Remusi and I can buy more than loaf… Ooh, what about a tomato? Or cheese?”</p><p>“What about a cheese and tomato sandwich?” Remus chided in, his mouth watering from the thought. </p><p>The boss looked at the boys, his eyebrow raised from the question, “but I already give you a safe place to stay in, and I’m letting you eat the bread loaf. You don’t want to be arrested and hung for stealing, because I don’t ‘<em> have’ </em> to do this,” Collecting the coins, he started piling them on his table to count again later. “You don’t wanna be like your mama right? Shot, left alone… died for nothing…” </p><p>Roman squirmed from the thought as the man smugly smirked. “Run along now boys, don’t disappoint your master more than you would,” </p><p>Remus tugged on Roman’s sleeve, leading him to the door so they could both leave their boss alone. Roman sighed, holding onto the loaf of bread and breaking it in half. “Here, Rem, our portion of the day,”</p><p>“Can’t you steal more food? I’m so hungry, Romana…”</p><p>Roman mumbled to his brother, rubbing his thumb over his hair. “I know, but we have to make due for now- I’ll take more later, but I’m afraid I’m on a watchlist on the markets above,” </p><p>They both trekked along the road where people crowded below, many gathering together to sell their items for profit. The ten-year old peered over the different varieties of food many people sold, including the few that weren’t from Spain. He spotted the few French markets selling exquisite cheese and pasties, and Itallians creating their own bowls of pasta. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would find the farmers who give him and his brother the leftover fruits they couldn’t sell to other people, giving it to the brothers for free instead. Roman started tugging Remus with him instead, attempting to find the farmers for food instead of stealing.</p><p>If the boy was honest, he didn’t like stealing. Every time he stole something from another, a small pang of guilt swimmed inside him, knowing that he was taking someone else’s hard work and profit, their money to feed their own families. It was going to a good cause though, in Roman’s opinion. Their boss allowed them to live underground, giving them far more protection than if living above.</p><p>
  <em> In case there was a madman with a gun again. </em>
</p><p>Pushing past people, Roman and Remus finally settled beside a market stall, letting out a breath before curling up beside it. Granted, they were still left with no home or family, but their boss was family enough. Right? The brothers seemed to think so, even acquainting with a few store owners underground. Ones he didn’t want to associate were ones who sold crazy crystals or white powder, or funny leaves that smelled weird and strange. Roman kept his brother away from those markets, but seemed comfortable near the food stalls. </p><p>“Hola, uhm, niños-” A businessman approached the relaxing pair, taking his top hat off to properly greet them. “My Spanish isn’t that good, uh… Do you know… who.. Or where Marcus Steep... is?” He attempted to speak slowly instead, hoping the boys could understand. Roman looked away from his brother to the man beside him, squatting down to properly view the boys. </p><p>He looked different than Roman saw, lacking the white dirty and tacky shirts with leather aprons that were falling from the seams. Instead, he wore a black and red striped suit, a pocket watch tucked nicely in his breast pocket. Getting up from the floor, Roman stood tall with his own red discoloured rags, peering around the older man. </p><p>
  <em> What is a man like him doing down here?</em>
</p><p>(Chapter break: 1/2)</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“Markus Steep?” He asked, an accent rolling from his voice. “Remusi? ¿Le mostramos dónde está?”</p><p>Remus shrugged, laying back on the stall with his arms resting on his head. “¿Si, por qué no?” </p><p>“I’ll take you there, Senor. Vamos, Remusi,” </p><p>Remus groaned as he got up, his hair tangled when he stood. A white strand of hair covered the front of his face, his red-brownish hair tangled everywhere else. The man chuckled from the youngest’s appearance, attempting to style it down for him. His finger reached out to the boy, and Remus watched the man as he started combing his hair. Remus jumped slightly from the contact, but felt less aggressive and painful for what people… <em> his boss… </em>pulled his hair whenever he was in trouble. The man… he felt calm, and Remus started leaning into the touch as Roman turned around to face the both of them.</p><p>“Can I ask for your name?”</p><p>The man returned his attention to the eldest, a small smile spreading on his face. “I’m a friend of Markus, Richmond. We both lived together before departing ways back a few years ago, he just offered to let me stay for a few months,” </p><p>“The boss never said anything about a Richmond,” Roman squinted his eyes at the other, scoffing to himself. “Surely, you aren’t undercover or something, finding this place and exposing us to everyone else,”</p><p>“What?” He asked. “No, why should I?”</p><p>“Because you’re rich,” Roman sneered. “The boss says rich people are snobs, taking everything away from us, so we take everything back,” </p><p>The ten-year old held a pocket watch in his hand non-chantly, the golden chain wrapped around his finger. “Like this, right? The boss might like this, big money,” </p><p>“I’m sure your boss doesn’t tolerate that behaviour, so can I have it back?” </p><p>Roman threw the watch back to the man, almost skipping back to his boss’ office. “Since you asked so nicely,” </p><p>A knot inside him untwisted when he gave the other his watch back, the boy frowned to himself when he took it. </p><p>
  <em> (Why did I take it? - Nevermind Roman, you’ll start overthinking again - remember what the boss said before. He doesn’t tolerate naughty children; they belong in the streets-)  </em>
</p><p>Wearing a new, fake smile, the boy wore his charismatic charade so neither him or his brother noticed his reaction, or behaviour. </p><p>“Shame Markus never spoke about me, but maybe you’ve heard of Suenos?” </p><p>Roman hummed to himself, thinking whether or not that's mentioned. Now he thought about it… “Boss did mention your name a few times, never knew why though,” </p><p>Richmond considered that he shouldn’t ask any more questions, seeming as they neared the office room. “Well, thank you kids. I would’ve took a long time arriving here,” </p><p>Waving the man goodbye, Roman and Remus started walking back to the stalls and request for leftover lunch, Remus skipping with his steps as Roman strolled from behind him. </p><p>“Spring in your step?” He asked his eight-year old brother. Remus nodded, giving him a toothy smile.</p><p>“Si, I do. The man was different from the boss,” Remus replied, peering to his eldest brother. “He didn’t tug on my hair, or pull any strands. His hands were gentle… he reminded me of mama when she played with my hair,”</p><p>A small pang inside him burst, Roman’s voice was suddenly solemn. “Mama? But the boss told us to stop talking about her; that it doesn’t matter anymore,”</p><p>“But Romana, he felt exactly like Mama!” Remus whined, glancing to the concrete ground instead and kicked a pebble away. “I want mama back… the master’s rules are stupid- Why can’t we talk about Mama?” </p><p>
  <em> Blood was coated on the red boy’s clothing, staining a dark crimson with his mother laid limp on the ground… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Lifeless eyes… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Blood shot wound… </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bullet pierced through her forehead-  </em>
</p><p>“¿Romana? ¿Romana, puedes escucharme?”</p><p>“Huh?” Roman strolled towards a market stall and took two apples for the both of them to snack on. “I didn’t quite hear what you asked, but I think I know what the boss means by remembering Mama. It’s honestly… disturbing…”</p><p>Remus scoffed, chewing on his apple with his mouth open. “Disturbing? It’s hardly anything. Just a little bit of blood,”</p><p>“You weren’t coated on her blood - doesn’t her death affect you?” Roman didn’t feel like eating his apple anymore, passing it over to his brother. It wasn’t suitable to eat when the images of your mother’s blood and lifeless corpse hangs in your imagination. </p><p>“Was it supposed to be disturbing?”</p><p>“Yes Remusi, it’s meant to be disturbing-”</p><p>Roman began to retort, his hands on his hips when he raised an eyebrow at his younger brother’s answer. Before speaking however, a young woman approached them, jogging towards them both with a huff in her step. Her face was already rosy, her long dress clipping with her shoes when she tried not to trip over in front of the children. </p><p>“Niños? El hombre quiere hablarte,” she breathed, standing straight as she gazed down them. </p><p>“Si, ¿Remusi y yo?” The elder stood up to glance at the lady.</p><p>“No, solo tu. Puedo cuidar de él mientras ves al jefe,”</p><p>Roman nodded, thanking the lady and ruffled Remus’ head for a quick goodbye, running off back to the boss’ headquarters. He huffed when he returned back for the third time that day, but he should be grateful for what the man has offered him and his brother rather than being his grumpy self. A safe place away from the streets above, but Roman couldn’t help but imagine for more. Sometimes, he imagined a castle, living with him and his mama, or adventuring to the great unknown and becoming the next explorer for Spain. Living in the streets isn’t as interesting as becoming a prince saving a damsel, or fighting a dragon, or a witch - a dragon witch! </p><p>Roman just wants to play and laugh… He wanted to be a kid. He wanted a family too… Maybe he’s asking for too much now - would it hurt to be loved though? To have hugs, and bedtime stories, and a toy to play with? For someone to cook meals instead of stealing them, to have a bed to sleep in instead of a cobblestone ground in a cave? Roman spent more hours dreaming of a family than his creative stories; he spends more time thinking of something unrealistic than a universe beyond the one he lived in. At least both included his brother, the only importance for him. </p><p>
  <em> Remusi won’t look like mama, and I promised whatever it takes… even if ‘whatever’ means this… </em>
</p><p>Sometimes he hated this place, hated stealing food just so Remus and him don’t starve to death, or take other people’s money so the brothers are guaranteed protection from the criminals above. </p><p>
  <em> Maybe Roman is a criminal too - he is also breaking the law, he could get hung anytime, or trialled and thrown in prison. Remus would be all alone, in a world where they already wounded his childhood - he’s only eight years old! But still, maybe Roman is the same as the murderer that killed his mother, they’re both low-living people who make a living by illegal means… </em>
</p><p>“Roman? Sorry Rich, the kid is a bit slow sometimes,” The boss said, conversing with the businessman over the table as he grinned over to the child. “You can come in kid, the door’s open,”</p><p>
  <em> Kid? </em>
</p><p>The boy stepped in, standing beside the doorway awaiting for further instructions. He peered around the blank, empty room and noticed the two glasses in front of the older men, being the only new decoration in the room. Massive room… massive table, and there’s hardly anything inside. Roman felt smaller than he was, with the two taller adults in the room. His boss gestured to the boy to come closer to him, to sit down beside him and introduce the other man to the child.</p><p>“Roman, this is Richmond Suenos, remember, the man I was talking about?”</p><p>“You talk about him?” Roman asked. The other chuckled to himself, finishing his glass of water before butting through their conversation. </p><p>“Markus, the boy and I have met before - he led me to your office in the first place,”</p><p>Markus gave Roman a quick glare, switching his attitude completely when he smiled at his friend. “Of course, and such a good job you have done, my little songbird. I wished he asked me first… you need to tell your pop these things,”</p><p>
  <em> Pop? </em>
</p><p>“You know what kids are like these days. Sometimes they forget a few things, and that’s okay,”</p><p>Roman watched by, standing on his chair to have a better view between the men. “Of course, and I’m assuming you have kids of your own?”</p><p>The other chuckled again, shaking his head. “I don’t. In fact, I came to Spain to see you again and to adopt before returning to America,”</p><p>“YOU’RE FROM AMERICA?” Roman shouted out of nowhere, almost standing on the table. It was a golden word to him, the land of exploration. The land of opportunity. The land of <em> adventure. </em>Richmond nodded, fulfilling the child’s sudden burst of curiosity. </p><p>“Indeed, I own a train company there. It’s small, but it’s planning to grow. The company motto: We ride to dream, we live to adventure; at least for now, might change soon,”</p><p>
  <em> Adventure… </em>
</p><p>“That sounds so cool!” </p><p>“It is too. Travelling from around America, from the biggest cities to the smallest country towns. A plan of mine is to expand to Europe, and compile a train route around the continent as France is already the company headquarters. Maybe I’ll allow you and your brother to travel on it one day,” He drank the rest of his glass, peering to the boy with a small smile. Roman’s eyes widened from the prospect, and he glanced towards his boss to confirm if his dream can come true.</p><p>“No, Roman. Unfortunately, both you and I are already very busy financially and I’m afraid it’ll be impossible for us to venture outside,”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“No is no, Roman. It is too dangerous to be up there for so long, the criminals could attack at any given moment, and you’ll ever expect it,” He ended the conversation for the boy, but couldn’t help but direct his glances to the coins sitting on his tabletop whenever he spoke. Markus looked down at his coins, deciding to speak to the pennies instead of the boy. “It’s better with you here…” </p><p>Grumpy, the boy shuffled away from his boss with his arms crossed. The visitor chuckled from the boy’s reaction and instead got up from his seat. He fumbled with the expensive shirt cuff on his arm, and debated whether he should speak before sighing, asking himself a question rather than glancing at the other people inside the room. </p><p>“I suppose I should get some drinks?” He wanted to do something, at least leaving the room for a little bit to give his friend and his… son some time alone together to resolve the issue properly. It was awkward, and he soon felt the same tension in the air, swaying from side to side as he stood. </p><p>“No, it is quite fine Richmond. I brought Roman up here to do that job anyway. He’ll be… the entertainer for tonight,” Markus explained whilst staring at the few coins sitting comfortably on his table. Plucking a coin from the top of the pile and watching it plop down casually, he waited for the boy to give a reaction from the request. Roman was obedient, diligent… he expected somewhat from a ten-year old boy. </p><p>“Entertainer? What does that mean?” Roman asked, tapping his chin when he looked up at both the adults.</p><p>“Entertainer,” Richmond started, “is when you provide entertainment for others - like performing to keep the room alive,”</p><p>Roman’s head tilted at the word, a curious but amusing look for the boy. “Performing?” He already knew what it meant, and he beamed from the idea from being allowed to sing, or dance - acting in front of an audience…</p><p>-~-</p><p>
  <em> “Romana, what about you show Mama your newest song?” His mother said, patting the cushion chair beside her as she sat in front of the piano. Remus was sitting comfortably in her safe arms, and the little boy rushed up beside her to play his new melody. Snuggling himself beside his mother, the boy pressed a key to test the sound, taking a moment to prepare before his newest tune. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m kinda nervous, mama,” </em>
</p><p> <em> “Nonsense,” His mother replied, playing a few keys herself to comfort her son. “No matter what song it is, I’m 100% positive your tune will be grand and extravagant. Just like you, mi hermano, will be bigger than any performance in the opera,” </em></p><p>
  <em> Tentative, the little boy’s face scrunched in thought, pressing a few more piano keys for good measure. “Are you sure? What if everyone hated my acting, or songs? I wanna be an actor one day mama… What if nobody likes me as an actor?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Holding him close, his mother cradled him softly with his brother sound asleep. She gently combed her hand through his hair, a smile gracing her face. “I know everyone would love you, and if not? I’ll always be your number 1, Ro…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’ll never let you go alone,”   </em>
</p><p>-~-</p><p>“Songbird?” </p><p>“Mama?”</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>(Chapter break, 2/2)</p><p>“No - and what did I tell you about your mama?” His boss held his hands on his hip, looking down at the boy as if he did a crime. In truth, Roman shivered under the gaze, never expecting his boss to have such a glare. He would steal things, but his boss would be impressed… but if he was being ‘good’ (in his mother’s terms), his master would be upset. What did Roman do? All he did was nothing, he was being nothing...</p><p>“To never mention her?” It was a question for himself. Why couldn't he speak of his mother? Or even think about her? Why cannot Remusi do the same? <em>This isn’t fair. </em>It hurts to think about her, but not all the memories were of her blood and lifeless eyes, or her stained dress and shrilling scream for an attempt to scare the murderer from her family. It hurts more when neither boys could think of their mama. <em>It hurts when their good memories of her are disappearing without a trace of her.</em></p><p>“Disappointing… Utterly disappointing… Perhaps you cannot perform after all, you’re too tired and ill,”</p><p>“No I’m not-” Roman wanted to protest before being shushed rudely. Richmond raised his eyebrow at the meeting, and Marcus chuckled awkwardly before standing himself. </p><p>“You are in trouble. Come with me at once,” He said sternly, motioning for the child to follow. “Sorry for this, Richmond, but their mother was such a terrible person… It’s so hard to discipline and educate children when their abusive mother…”</p><p>Almost as if he snapped his neck, Roman’s head turned faster than the words from his master’s mouth. She never hurt them, the audacity… how dare he? The boy opened his mouth to talk, to shout at him from the lie he just told. How dare he insult his mother? She died a protector for her boys, she died a hero! She was everything for Roman… She was everything Roman wanted to be. From her emerald eyes, or the baby pink dress she wore whenever she stood in the sun; her sun kissed skin tanned matched her natural self, and not just by her appearance. His mother’s smile, the sweet laugh, the comfort in her arms and the hug of warmth… her love. Both the boys missed it… they’re hanging on something so little. Her comfort, her safety, her security… </p><p>Instead, the boy followed his master into a small room outside his office, a living room of sorts. It was as plain as his office, the white walls boring into the boy’s mind as ideas sprouted to decorate the setting. A small plant would fit nicely beside the empty corner table, or a painting behind the bare wall. The small light wasn’t enough to cover the room… What if there was a chandelier hanging above from the tall roof? The room was big enough to fit anything inside, maybe even a horse stable. Roman’s mind was fogged with the sound of horses; <em>clippity clop; clippity clop. </em></p><p>“Boy! Are you listening? Don’t make me send you outside with your poor excuse of a brother in the feral streets. Honesty, at this rate you’ll be as useless as him if you keep zoning out,”</p><p>Roman blinked back into reality, the dark gloomy room returning into his vision and an angry boss clicking his fingers in front of him for attention. Glancing up, he winced from the reaction. Red bloated cheeks matched his creased frown and glaring eyes. The boy didn’t want to believe it, and he felt like shaking from under the unimpressed stare. Was he going to pull his hair? Slap him across the face whenever he didn’t earn enough? What did Roman do? What does Roman need to do to regain his approval? Unfortunately for the ten-year-old, he had no clue what was happening, nor what he did. </p><p>“This is what happens when naughty children think uselessly about nothing. They get so lost in their thoughts, they end up doing stupid things. Don’t be that child Roman - your brother is a good example of a terrible child,”</p><p>“I’m sorry, pardon, Sir?” Roman asked. Remus? Useless? He does as much as what Roman does during the day. He just wants to feed himself, ensure he can live another day without worrying of the gun shots from above the caves. <em>He just wanted to survive.</em></p><p>“You’re brother is the most useless tool I’ve ever seen. I have trained better eight-year-olds than him. All he brings back to me is a dead bird he found in the street,” His boss spat. “At least you’re useful, practical… You bring me money instead, the good stuff. If he wasn’t your brother, I would’ve took care of him long ago,”</p><p>Roman stuttered from under the gaze, but held strong. Nobody insults his mother, nor his brother. Especially his brother, he’s all he has left. “The money… It’s not even yours… He just wants to impress you, sir. He is trying to…”</p><p>“And? Tell me how, my little songbird,” He challenged the poor boy. Smirking when he saw a jolt of fear when he stepped closer, the boy gulped down his fear and stood tall. Seeking eye to eye, Roman puffed out his chest and stared up at his boss. The master’s clothing was tattered but clean, a few seams splitting and his beard wasn’t even shaved properly. A glint captured Roman’s attention however, a bottle of sorts… small, but made of glass. Roman scoffed at his boss, and shook his head with his hands sitting on his hip. Leaning onto one side, the boy chuckled. </p><p>“Look at yourself. You want me to steal riches from commoners who try their ding dang hardest to earn a living, and you cannot even afford a new shirt. Remus tries his hardest, but even he finds dead birds more interesting than committing petty crimes,” </p><p>His master grinned, squatting down to his eye-level. “Are you saying you commit the petty crimes? Tsk, Roman… You’re just saying you’re just as bad as the murderer who killed your mother,” </p><p>Taking a step back, Roman stood further from his boss, pointing a finger at him as if he was caught red handed. “I am not, because the murderer never spoke little of my mother, or brother. I might steal, but I am trying to make a living WITH Remusi! He is evil, the killer should be served proper justice. As for you? I might be stealing, but I am not the one who spends the money…” Roman glared at him for good measure, crossing his arms. “I am done stealing for you. You shouldn’t had have the money in the first place, nobody deserved it… not even you,”</p><p>Roman seethed while he spoke, and his face furrowed in concern when his master never moved. There was no expression from him, no grin or smirk. He looked bored, an eyebrow raised in question when the boy made his dramatic speech. Personally? Roman was proud of what he said. His voice never boomed with so much bravery, and he felt… powerful. Super powerful, a superhero.</p><p>“You’re just spitting the dummy because of what I said about your pathetic mother,</p><p>“She was not pathetic,” He retaliated. “She kept us safe!”</p><p>“She left you on the streets. SHE LEFT YOU TO DIE ALONE, ROMAN. FOR GOD'S SAKE STOP TALKING ABOUT HER, IT’S TOO FUCKING ANNOYING. MOMMY THIS, MOMMY THAT - SHE’S FUCKING DEAD! SHE’S NOT YOUR HERO, I AM. WHO HAD TO FIND YOU ON THE STREETS? WHO TOOK YOU AND YOUR BROTHER IN WHEN YOU HAD NO ONE ELSE?!”</p><p>“You keep telling us that you will throw us back in the streets if you don’t get your daily 500 pesos… You are the one who is willing at any moment to send us back. We should’ve died in the streets, at least I didn’t have to ruin more lives by stealing their own livings,”</p><p>Roman didn’t know when he sniffled, but his body felt broken while he stood. He wanted to collapse, his legs shaking like twigs from under his weight. Marcus looked unimpressed again, rolling his eyes from the boy’s reaction. Roman’s hands felt clammy, and he twitched every few moments when he felt the cold, unloving stare. Instead, the boss held his arms out to him, tilting his head and gave him a little smile.</p><p>“Come on, my little songbird. We can hug it out… We can pretend none of this ever happened. I promise neither you or your brother will be in the streets, you are safe with me…” </p><p>He looked sincere, his voice changing from a harsh shout to a tender, gentle tone. Marcus sounded safe, sounded promising. Roman shifted from one side to another when he looked on wards from the posture. It was rare that he could hug him, or even touch him really. The boys weren’t allowed to disturb him, or even shake hands. Every time Remus was upset, the boss would hug the boy when he needed it the most, but it was always treated like a last resort. Master doesn’t like hugs, he only hugs when… But he wanted to love them right? He looked secure.</p><p>Sadly enough, he didn’t look like mama. She was secure, always loving the hugs the boys gave her… He wasn’t mama, and he would never be mama. Mama was mama, and the boss was a jerk. Roman shook his head as he stayed still, his arms stuck beside his sides when he directed his views to the boring wooden flooring instead. His breath hitched when he was enclosed by the hug regardless, his choking sobs slowly growing louder. Closing his eyes, he squirmed under the touch until he noticed the bottle again. Roman continued to squelch under the touch, and grabbed the bottle loose from the master’s pockets just before Marcus let him go. </p><p>“I knew it… Pathetic,” He scoffed. The boy hid the bottle quickly in his pocket, the boss never seemed to notice. “I’ll let you stay while Richmond is here, but when it finishes, I want you out of my sight. He’s already suspicious of my opinion with you, and would be further suspicious if he figures out you disappeared. When the meeting is finished, you’re also finished.” He threatened him, and Roman’s hands clammed into a fist while he hissed at him. “Don’t get cute. You’re still a disappointment,”</p><p>Marcus opened the door when he decided the talk was finished, and changed his personality from an annoyed, harsh man to a welcoming, joyful host. “My songbird, could you be a dear and fill up two glasses of water for Rich and I? Thank you,” He said with a chirp, and closed the door from behind, leaving the boy alone. </p><p>Roman scowled at his boss when he was left alone, walking over to the sink to fill the glasses up. Richmond didn’t deserve any different treatment from the judgy boy, but rather some respect. He is from America, and even Remusi commented on his friendly nature. It was… rare for Remus to feel what he spoke so dearly of, love. At this point, both the boys were desperate for the same, unconditional love they had years ago. Why did the murderer take everything away from them? Their home, their mama?</p><p>“My songbird, could you be a dear and fill up two glasses of water,” Roman mocked with a high squeak. He never said anything about <em>not </em>insulting the master. Turning the tap off, Roman plucked the bottle he stole from his pocket and opened the lid. Sniffing it, it smelt horrible, a stinge of stale nuts. Roman poured a few drops into the boss’ cup. A drop or two… maybe three wouldn’t hurt. The boy still felt sour, but a smile pursed his lips when he looked at the cup. A little bit of revenge to calm his nerves; after all, him and Remus would be kicked from the underground lair. Roman can find them a new home, a castle behind a green grassy hill looking over villages. He and Remusi can be kings - actually no, Remus can be a duke. </p><p>Roman pictured a sword in his hand instead of the spiked drink, and his companion beside him looping their arm with his. He imagined the other with a purple suit, maybe even with black circles under their eyes to bring out their sparkling interest when they look back loving at Roman… Prince Roman. Roman could only dream, but he hummed with a tune in his step. Holding the glass in his hands, Roman opened the door and wore a fake smile on his face, fighting the urge to frown at his former boss.</p><p>“Sorry if you took so long, I was… a bit upset,” Roman placed the spiked drink down in front of his boss, and the normal drink in front of Richmond. He rocked in the balls of his feet and waited for the men to continue conversing, watching endlessly for his ‘boss’ to drink his own glass of water. As Richmond spoke with Marcus, he sipped on his own drink and urged Marcus to do the same. </p><p>“So, shall I do a bit of a performance?” The boy asked, preparing himself by swinging his arms around and stretching his back. “I can sing, and dance too,”</p><p>Marcus took a swig of his drink, drowning it whole before slamming it back on his table. “No, Roman.. It’s quite enough. Richmond, it’s getting a little late for the boy, so perhaps we should discuss the finances of the deal?</p><p>“Right- right of course,” Richmond nodded, opening his briefcase for the loose papers he brought to sign. “It’s all in here,”</p><p>“Thank you, Rich- <em>cough </em>,”</p><p>
  <em>Wheeze, cough, wheeze.</em>
</p><p>“What the- <em>cough, </em>Urgh, the taste. Wai- <em>wheeze, </em>”</p><p>Marcus kept coughing, hacking away from the drink he swallowed and patted his pocket, realising till then the bottle disappeared. Roman held the bottle high up for his boss to see, but the widened eyes the boy had was different than the smirk he had earlier. He had the same feeling from earlier, the dreaded gloom returning to his body and his insides squirming uncomfortably, yet hot and jittery. Why is the boss coughing?</p><p>“You- you poisoned - <em>cough- </em>It was meant for him. You- you’re good for nothing-”</p><p>It was the last words Roman heard before he fell face flat on the table, his body limp and still. Froth bubbled from the boss’ mouth. Vomit stenched the room and the body never twitched from the feeling. Both Richmond and Roman stared at the scene, the last few words replaying in their minds like an endless loop.</p><p>
  <em>Poison? Poison?! POISON?!</em>
</p><p>The young boy collapsed on the ground, his knees colliding with the floor. He’s dead, the boss is dead. Roman killed him - the poison? It was meant to be a joke, a prank! He thought it was just a smidgen of alcohol and wanted to mix it in the water. Roman only thought it was vodka, or the strange whiskey the men drink, how was he supposed to know the small bottle was poison? His erratic breathing collided with his lungs, and he couldn’t feel his movements while gasping for air. Fingers were non-existent to him, and he could hardly see from the mass tears streaming down his face. Roman could only hear a faint sound, and strained hard enough to hear it. </p><p>It was the older man, Richmond? He was sitting beside the boy, what is he doing? He rubbed small circles on the boy’s palm and cooed a soft sound, but it sounded gentle. The other pulled the boy closer to him slowly, but it didn’t feel like a tug or a forced contact like the affection the boss gives to them. It feels natural, as if it was meant to happen for a long time, and Roman could feel himself embrace instead of letting go. The last time he felt that way was with Mama, but it was so long ago. His boss’ body was still on the table, and his mind still whirred quickly. He was focusing himself on the man’s scent - a warm honey with vanilla. </p><p>“Roman? Kid? It’s okay. It’s okay and you’re safe. There’s no danger, no noise, nothing to hurt you. I’m here with you, it’s okay. Everything will be okay,”</p><p>“But he’s dead. It’s all my fault, the poison. I- I stole it from him earlier- he threatened me and Remus to go back to the streets, to die with our mama. I don-don’t want to die, I don’t want Remus to die. I’m meant to be the hero- and I still-”</p><p>Richmond shushed the boy softly, turning to cradle his hair instead. “It’s a horrible situation, and I thought Marcus would be better than abusing children. You deserve a home, protection… a family,”</p><p>
  <em>Family.</em>
</p><p>“Wait here, Roman,” The man said, sitting up from his position on the floor to his briefcase. Searching through many different files, he pulled out a yellow flyer and laid it on the ground for the other to see. A few words mushed together, but the few words Roman could pin point were ‘adoption’ and ‘name’.</p><p>“Here, I know we haven’t known each other, and you wouldn’t have records with you, right? The process is going to be messy, but you and your brother are in more danger than the children living in orphanages,” He grabbed a pen from his breast pocket, and signed his name on the top of the adoption papers. “We can make new identity cards for you in America, your brother too. Neither of you deserve any of this life, stealing and all. I’m assuming your mama wasn’t abusive either?”</p><p>Roman shook his head as a reply, keeping his mouth shut. Since when did speaking become too sore? He could speak if he wanted to, but only a small, painful squeak can be heard. Tears flowed down his face, and the boy covered his mouth to muffle his embarrassing cry. His body hitched every few seconds, sniffling when he tried to console his breathing. </p><p>“You promise me one thing, Roman,” The man finished signing the papers, handing the pen over to the sobbing boy who slowly stopped crying. Roman looked up to the man, and although he still felt messy- he also felt a different group of feelings. Guilt? Resentment? Sure, but he also had the feeling of freedom. He wasn’t filled with threats anymore, and the guarantee of a home felt more promising by the minute when Roman considered what the man was doing. </p><p>“You must promise me, that you don’t do anymore stealing,”</p><p>Roman nodded vigorously, mustering a real, wobbly smile for the man when he held the shaky pen. Signing his own name to properly declare his decision, he gave it back to the man. The other laughed in joy and held his hand out for the boy to shake, only for the boy to jump on him and hug tightly, afraid to ever let go. Nuzzling his face onto his shirt, Richmond could feel his shirt getting wet with tears or snot, but couldn’t bring himself to care. A long process, yeah, but a process both the man and brothers are excited to make. They were only children, and even they deserved a family.</p><p>“Welcome, my son. Welcome to my family,”</p><p>And for once, Roman felt excited to be called his son. He missed it, and even though the man didn’t wear a baby pink dress or a natural tan that the sunlight kissed with the feeling of gentle care, Roman also knew that the man would be his new ‘mama’ in more ways. For once, Roman wasn’t afraid to let go, and a real smile crept on his face.</p><p>
  <em>A family.</em>
</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“Roman? Roman- are you in there?” Logan knocked on the door numerous times as both brothers eventually fell asleep on Roman’s bed. It took a while, but he finally realised what he did and ran (or, limped) as fast as could to find his friends to apologise. He missed running down the corridors like he used to, but he wouldn’t trade his friendship for a new leg either. The door was unlocked, and Logan opened the door to find both brothers snoozing as the train travelled past the night lit Polish towns. </p><p>Sitting down beside them, Logan mumbled to himself as he waited for them to wake up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translation: (part 1)</p><p>Re: Romana? What did he do to you?!</p><p>Shop: HEY, COME BACK HERE YOU BRAT!</p><p>Ro: Sir,<br/>Re: I saw you here-<br/>Ro: Remusi, Hi!</p><p>(part 2):</p><p>Ro: Remusi? Do we show this man where he is?<br/>Re: Sure, why not?</p><p>Re: Romana, can you hear me?</p><p>Woman: Boys, the man wants to speak to you.<br/>Ro: Okay, Remus and me?<br/>Woman: No, only you. I can look after him while you see the boss.</p><p>(AN: Summary of the chapter: The 'little songbird' is Roman and the man who calls him that is a manipulative boss. He is poisoned by ten-year-old Roman when Roman stole a bottle, plotting a petty revenge but accidentally killing the guy instead. Richard Suneos adopts both Roman and Remus after seeing their inequality of their life, and takes them in for what the boys need: a family.</p><p>Hi, so other stories are currently being made and wouldn't be uploaded until early-ish October. Why that long? This story wouldn't be uploaded next week due to the increasing length of the story - so we're now writing at roughly 2700&gt; minimum instead of the 2100&gt; like the earlier chapters so chapters would be longer. Chapter writing is slower because of this, and chapter 14 is currently being written, so hopefully it should be finished in 2 weeks. During September and early October, the story will not be updated because of exams, so hopefully the amount of chapters written can prevent that from happening, but it is a high doubt. Sorry. Meantime? We'll see you all in 2 weeks. Hopefully, this lengthy chapter covers the 2 weeks. Oh, and with the other story? Yeah, it's a tosser between Prinxiety, Logicality and Demus, so we'll see what happens in early-ish October.</p><p>Anyway, sorry for this rant, but I consider this important. Cya you guys in 2 weeks.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. - Chapter 13 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Implied homophobia</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Fluttering his eyes open and adjusting his eyes in the dark, Roman groaned as he got up from his bed. Remus curled up closer to the warmth from where he slept, snuggling as he snored. Rolling his eyes, he squinted his eyes at the time and sighed when he noticed the time. It was almost 2 in the morning, and before he could get off he noticed another figure beside him. His breath hitched from when he realised who he was, and debated internally whether or not Roman should kick the detective off the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about Logan, and realised that he couldn’t stay mad at the detective for long. Logan was his first and closest friend, who did many things for him that Roman could never repay him for. What he did was nothing excusable since he knew all about the abuse and how similar it connected to each other, but he did realise the difference between his friend and the monster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logan came back to him, possibly to apologise which was rare for him to do, his ego equally matched with Roman. The detective would apologise for politeness, but even he had boundaries whenever it comes to pride. He checked for Roman in the end, probably ensuring that he was completely fine before doing anything else. It was the thing with Logan, he learned to plan encounters before executing them, making sure there was limited drama as possible. Roman appreciated that, knowing the detective’s foresight was a talent, in the most difficult cases, most likely picking the skill up whenever interrogating witnesses and utilising them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Careful to not wake either men up, Roman slid to the end of the bed head and jumped off instead. He would probably not sleep anytime soon, so he waited for the morning sun to arrive from the train windows. Strolling to the other side of his cabin, he decided to grab a novel book from the bookshelf beside the windows and relax in a different world. Opening the book to where it was marked from last time he read, he stationed himself in a red, regal chair and waited until the sun would rise above the Polish hills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time passed as people slept in his warm, comfy bedding until a clunk hollowed through the walls of Roman’s cabin. There should be nobody in his carriage in… 4 in the morning? Getting up to check outside, Roman took a deep breath to calm himself before yanking the door open. It could be the murderer waiting to kill him, or Janus, plotting some revenge from taking the private letters from his belongings. Roman had to be honest - he was too young to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relaxing from the sight, he noticed Janus outside his carriage cruising around the place, no gun or knife in his hands to plot a murder with Roman’s body. He had similar clothes from the first day, but wore a black jacket on his shoulders and a grey and yellow striped jumper best suited for the cold. Wearing quite a few noticeable layers, Roman took this note as Janus might get cold easily, still wearing a lot of layers during the day after revealing he wears more shirts underneath his classy button up. Janus huffed and saw the red man, smirking and leaned on the wall casually while maintaining his eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like what you see? You have been staring for a little bit there, Roman~” He said, chucking when Roman displayed a tinge of pink in his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I concur, for that I should ask why you’re awake at 4 in the morning,” Turning the tables instead, Roman crossed his arms. The journalist hummed from his question, turning his attention to his yellow gloves. His monocle glinted from the moonlight shining on them both, Janus swaying swiftly in the movement of the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall I ask why you’re still awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman yawned, stretching his limbs. “I slept earlier yesterday,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming satisfied by the answer, Janus stepped closer to Roman and reached his hand up to his face. Cupping his hand on one side of his face, Janus leaned a little close to Roman, seeming in thought rather than making a move to do anything towards the tired man. Gulping, Roman stared back at the journalist, only now noticing how hazel green his eye was, the left discoloured eye was almost purely white behind the monocle glass. Resting a hand on his black bowler hat, Roman trailed his finger down before curling onto his hair. Soft, tingly and bouncy. It felt nice under his touch, and he only now realised how close they both were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would invite you inside, but it is quite occupied already,” Roman decided a conversation would be best, holding onto Janus’ wrist and gently led him away from the door to another part of the train.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Occupied? Is there something happening inside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not sure what Janus was talking about, Roman kept talking. “Logan and Remus are asleep, and I would rather not wake them up. Logan must’ve wanted to see me earlier and waited for me, except that he must’ve fallen asleep, tired from waiting,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking around the train in silence, Janus followed Roman as he led them around the cabins. Not wanting to wake the employers resting inside, they tip-toed around the wooden floorboards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” Janus wanted to strike up a conversation. “What happened to my pen, Roman? I was sure it was in my room,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Play it cool Roman, play dumb instead).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a pen?” He chuckled awkwardly. Janus stopped walking and instead crossed his arms, Roman only now realising his mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Not. That. Dumb).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roman… What happened to the letter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus started walking towards Roman, and Roman ducked his head to avoid the sudden imitating glare of the other. Hiding his sight from Janus, the journalist huffed and stood back; this is like talking to a child. Muttering to himself, he calmly strolled away from Roman to a different part of the train, waiting for Roman to notice. Peering with his one eye, he calculated Roman’s behaviour before almost entering the carriage door. The other started walking up to him, almost like a dog wanting to be with their owner. Janus knew a lot of things about the man, and the only thing he could do was to keep those cards close to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roman, we both want to be friends, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Roman looked back to Janus; confused yet curious. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Friends don’t hide things from them, or contribute to stealing,” He turned the knob of the door open to leave Roman behind. “Not true friends anyway…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janus, I-” He closed his mouth, clearing his throat awkwardly afterwards before talking again. “I want to be friends - but the pen is just temporarily lost-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you just say-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, but…” Roman stuttered, holding his hands up in defence. “I can get it back, I know where it is Jannie,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising an eyebrow from the statement, Janus sighed as he reentered the room Roman was in, closing the door behind him and leaning against the door. “You promise you will return it, right? I can’t have anyone knowing what was contained in those pens,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why would that be?” Crossing his arms, Roman tugged on his sweater sleeves as Janus walked closer to him. He looked down to the shorter man and tilted his head from his advances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just- nobody can know what was in the letters, it’s too personal,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jan, you do know how bad that sounds right? ‘Nobody can know’, especially after a murder?” Roman would’ve been surprised that his logic finally worked for once if a murder didn’t cause the stop of fun for the train ride. The other opened his mouth to protest, but only then did he realise how bad it sounded. He obviously didn’t mean too, and Roman chuckled at his dumbfounded expression. Scratching the side of his face awkwardly, Janus looked smaller than his posture from before, taking a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roman, you promise not to laugh alright? I’m going to tell you what the letters have, hopefully meaning you don’t see me as the murderer,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus held his hand on Roman’s arm to escort him to a carriage with less rooms inside, resulting in him returning to his own room instead. Roman has been inside many times before, and made his way to his bed and jumped on the bouncy mattress. Closing the door, the journalist clicked on the light switch and waited for the room to light up immediately. Noticing the lack of belongings Janus brought, Roman took his mind towards the assortment of papers and journals on the bedside table, as well as a body-length mirror hanging on the closet door and the few books discarded aside on the chair the other would lounge in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journalist approached the bag hanging by his bed, opening the contents and grabbed a few pens out before unscrewing the barrel to reveal more letters. Unfolding a few letters from the pens, Janus handed Roman a few samples before settling the pens beside him and sat down. He peered over Roman’s shoulder, awaiting for a reaction from the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” Roman asked, looking through and checking if they were double sided. Janus chuckled at his antics, and took a letter from him so he could explain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you know if you read them, Roman, but nonetheless, these are letters from Virgil. They don’t look murderous I hope,” His voice was softer when he spoke, glimpsing through a few before giving them back for Roman to read. Personally, he hated people reading these things, his secrets - but in these circumstances, Roman should at least believe him. His deepest secret was stuck inside the pen for a few years, and Janus gave the other context of what he kept hidden so Roman wouldn’t steal his things anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Virgil? Why him,” He asked. Roman read through the words carefully until Janus reached out for another pen, this time sitting in his breast pocket. Unravelling the barrel, he gave Roman a different letter, in his own writing instead. It was crumpled and rough, the creases being long folded and almost tearing from how much it was wrapped inside the pen. Different ink splats covered the page, and Roman noticed the small smudges of ink, a blue splotch wetting the paper and eventually affected the other cursive words decorated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We- well, I-” Janus started to stutter, soon losing his confident facade and cleared his throat instead. “Let's say that before Virgil and I became… what we are now, I had a little something for him,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A present?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you- hng,” Janus sighed, “Okay, simply because you don’t understand this, I liked Virgil. The letters you’re reading, specifically the last letter, was a confession note before I was rejected by his other letter. The only letter I didn’t send to him, everything else was his notes,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skimming over the words of the confession, Roman read each word carefully as the silence droned over the both of them. Folding it afterwards, Roman handed the letter back to a tentative Janus. Janus was quiet, staring at the pens opened in front of him and screwing them back slowly, his arms shaking while he held his breath. Tilting his head, Roman glanced at Janus and decided to help him screw the pens back for him as Janus looked uncertain by the minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janus, is everything okay?” He asked instead, tucking the pens back into the bag. Fiddling with his yellow glove, Janus took a deep breath and adjusted his monocle before answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite fine, I just totally didn’t tell you an illegal crime that can get me hung or anything, not… not at all…” His voice hitched. Reaching out for his hand, Roman gently rubbed small circles in his palm and puffed a breath with a smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what crime would that be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring at him in disbelief, Janus contemplated whether he should spell it out for the moron. “Homosexuality?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman gave him a small grin, tilting his head to the other while comforting his nervousness. “Why would I tell someone else who we are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We?” He asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Jan-aconda, do you seriously think I would be swinging for just ladies? Men can be superb too,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing in relief, Janus’ shoulders relaxed as he chuckled. “You flirt enough to want a lady, or anyone really,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoving his arm, Roman hollered when he considered the comment. “That’s it though, everyone is just so hot all the time? Like - they’re so attractive, how could you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attractive?” The other asked. “I’m sorry, pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Att-ract-ive; you know, when you stare at someone and go ‘oh well you look at that, that’s one nice-looking guy walking down the street. I wouldn’t mind being with him for the night'. Like, it might be their muscles or their beard, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Apologies, Roman,” Janus chuckled in amusement, not having the faintest clue. “I’m not sure of what you mean. A slight idea however, as it happened probably a few times, but so faint I wouldn’t even recognise it,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like Logan?” Roman said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus blinked from the comment, tilting his head curiously when he stopped fidgeting with the pens. Taking his hat off to play with instead, Janus rocked side to side in thought. “What do you mean with ‘like Logan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Roman started. “Assuming, like you, feels nothing towards anyone. He never felt anything… sexual, and only the other day did we realise he doesn’t even like the topic. It’s like.. He feels indifferent or even repulsed by it because he doesn’t feel it? Okay, this probably makes no sense,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it actually makes perfect sense- except, I do feel a little of what you say, except that it’s only to people I connect with,” Janus took a deep breath, closing his eyes to analyse his feelings to explain, simply. “It’s like, I feel like Logan everyday. But, other times, I feel like you, but with people I bond with? It’s very rare I bond with people, and even then I feel you, but feel Logan with everyone else,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman nodded along with what Janus said, understanding his friend’s feelings a little more. Janus shifted uncomfortably from the lack of response, and murmured to himself instead. A feeling of regret whirred in his mind, his body churning from the feeling. He shouldn’t have trusted Roman, he shouldn’t have told Roman something so stupid-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Janus? Everything you said makes sense. Heck, it even makes Logan’s feelings more sense and that guy is complicated. Janus?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus took his last deep breath, relaxing himself and standing up as Roman did the same. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I are the same, little different, but we’re also very homosexual I suppose. I won’t tell anyone,” He finished, his comment lingering in the air when he decided to open his mouth. “I don’t think you’re the murderer either. You’re not evil, or a menace,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And my pen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman sighed, opening the door to take his leave. “It’ll be returned soon, and I promise nobody will read it. It’s more of… reassurance,” Roman scratched the back of his neck, giving Janus another wave when he closed the door. Janus stood at the other side of the door by himself, packing his pens away when he decided to return back to his bed. He saw the time reading 05:43 on the wall, and took off his shoes before laying down on the bed. If he had to say anything, he would say that the feelings he spoke to Roman earlier... The confessions from Virgil’s notes he kept for the past years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those feelings ever disappeared, and Janus squirmed under his bed sheets from the unrequited feeling.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey guys; we're back (ish)</p><p>From the 2 weeks I managed to finish a chapter, so to keep productivity up this story would have to be ever 2 weeks until we have a lot of bank chapters written. </p><p>In the meantime, there is a one-shot written if you want to check it out. </p><p>Thanks for reading.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. - Chapter 14 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Course language (swear words)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: I have a feeling the chapter breaks are for me to assume the length of each chapter as well as the fact it's easier for me to read, but I'll keep them if any of you appreciate the breaks. (I know for me it's easier for me to read since long chapters with a weird consistency does throw me off sometimes, and it might be the same for you guys I don't know-). Do comment if you want chapter breaks deleted, I honestly don't mind. </p><p>Ignore my rambles- </p><p>Happy reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Logan shot up from the bed, the morning sun blaring at his sight. He tried looking around, only to be greeted by the right of red walls instead. Patting around the bed, he attempted to find his misplaced glasses before feeling someone beside him. Although very blurry, he could recognise the green splotched jumper and tangled, white streak hair. Poking the other, Remus groaned and fluttered his eyes open dramatically, greeted by the sight of the detective.</p><p>“What do you want?” He sneered. Logan sighed, still looking around for his glasses. </p><p>“Good morning to you Remus. I know my existence at the current moment isn’t too pleasant to be greeted with, but do believe me when I express an apology for my behaviour - well, lack of understanding for both you and Roman,”</p><p>Remus blinked, scratching his head from the jumble of words. “Huh?”</p><p>“I said I’m sorry, Remus, for ignoring both you and Roman when you have expressed your issues with me and I still carried on my own investigation,” Logan huffed, finally finding his glasses and wore them on his face. Glancing around Roman’s room, Remus followed Logan’s line of sight and saw Roman curled up on his sofa seat sleeping, a book nestled in his arms. Hopping off the bed, Logan found the leg he took off from earlier and adjusted it back to his body, testing the springs and joints before standing tall again. </p><p>Remus watched Logan applying his leg back on him, and jumped off the bed before getting tangled in Roman’s quilt, dropping unceremoniously on the floor instead. Roman woke up from the thud that rattled the floor, and bored his sight at his brother. Rubbing his eyes, he saw Logan standing in front of him, and sunk further on his chair when he was greeted by the sight of the detective. Logan took the book from Roman’s arms, and settled it back down on the table beside the chair before opening his arms out wide for a hug. </p><p>“The last time I attempted to give you comfort, I have forgotten what the effect of affection has on you whenever it comes to your performance of tasks. Roman, I am not like the man in your childhood, and nor do I wish to become someone like him. I may not understand the full capabilities, but I trust that you tell me whenever I exhibit the same behaviour by accident. I am… sorry, for making you do a task that triggers any horrible memory, and I promise to change any behaviour of mine to make you feel safe,” </p><p>Roman itched towards Logan, standing from his chair and leapt into Logan’s arms, knocking the detective’s balance over as they both fell into the ground. Roman hugged Logan tightly, and Logan held him close. </p><p>“I-I know you’re not like that monster, Logan. I know that you never meant to- but it’s hard to forget something that impactful-”</p><p>“And I understand,” Logan said.</p><p>“It’s good that you understand, and I’m sorry for giving you any hassle. This is a murder case, and it must be hard because of the few suspects with this train-”</p><p>“Wait- wait. ‘Few’ suspects? Wouldn’t you account for the workers in the train? Like Emile?”  Logan interrupted. Only then he realised what he did, and heaved out a breath. “Apologies, Roman,”</p><p>“You’ll get there, Logan. Soon enough, I’ll think you’re apologising for the fun of it, and not because of your ‘oh mighty serious attitude,” Roman laughed,  letting go from the hug and looked back at Logan. “In honesty, I want to contribute a little bit to this case anyway, and if that means telling you about the workers, then?” He shrugged to himself, sitting down with Logan on his bed. “The workers aren’t allowed guns in the train. We do a train inspection before they arrive, and record anything if they do own any guns. That’s why they wear their uniform, because there’s no gun to hide when walking into the train, nor is there a purpose,” </p><p>Roman smiled to himself when he explained the detail to Logan, feeling proud of himself from how smart he sounded. Logan blinked slowly when Roman spoke, processing the information slowly in his mind. “Wait, so you have the records of any gun owners?” Logan asked. </p><p>“Yeah, but one. Rems has one, but he never brings it because why would you? Anyway, if it helps it’s an army revolver given to him as a gift. He showed it to me once, a long nozzle and typically grey. Said it was from Thomas. Of course, I didn’t know who Thomas was until I saw him again a few days ago and he explained he was the guy who gave him the gun,” Roman rambled the information, glancing around the room and noticed a lack of green. “Where did Remus go?” </p><p>Effectively changing the conversation, Logan looked around the room again with Roman. The door was left open, compared to earlier when it was closed. Logan assumed Remus left, only to come back later. Watching the time of the clock, Logan stood up from Roman’s soft mattress and approached the open door. “If Remus was to come back later, I’ll keep the door open. Unfortunately I have work today, being the 9th of November and the train stopping in France at approximately 2 weeks,” </p><p>Roman nodded, until a click in his brain told him otherwise. “OH SHIT HANG ON, LOGAN!” He yelled, jumping off his bed. “Wait here, I gotta - oh gods where is it?”</p><p>On the wooden floor, Roman reached out for something under his bed and grabbed a wrapped box. Stood confused, the detective tilted his head and watched Roman’s shenanigans, his attempts of retrieving the box. Remus came back shortly later while Roman tugged on the box, holding a long object with a ribbon tied around the object. Chuckling at his older brother, Remus wordlessly shoved the object at Logan for him to hold and helped Roman grab the box from under the bed. </p><p>“Happy birthday,” They both said in unison. Logan stared down at Remus’ present, and took a moment for him to figure out what both brothers said. </p><p>“Oh,” was all he could say. He forgot his birthday, mostly as he saw it being insignificant and just another day. Roman and Remus thought otherwise, seeming as they held a present out for his friend. Holding onto Remus’, Logan could already tell what the present was, even with its poor wrapping technique and loose ribbon tied. It was barely heavy, and the few joints through Logan’s palm and the touch of wood slipped through his fingers. Unwrapping Remus’ first, all he could do was inspect the newly designed leg in front of him.</p><p>“I saw you putting your leg on, and completely forgot I had a new one to give you. Honestly, who knew the victim’s leg was a good study piece?” Remus chuckled, shaking his head from his friend’s slowly bubbling excitement. “Come on dick-pants, put your new leg on,”  </p><p>Scrambling to hold it properly, Logan took his own off and replaced it smoothly. A rubber band was attached so it could better support his body, and as Logan bent he could feel the joints click together until he stood straight again, another click signifying his posture. A few different screws and joints joined together for the design, and as he slid his pants down to cover the fake leg, it seemed more of a leg rather than a pole.</p><p>“I remember you saying something the other day of how it’s still a pain in the ass, or how walking still tires you as quickly. You might not be able to run yet, but now you can walk longer and hopefully limp less than like a grandfather.” </p><p>No words came from Logan’s mouth, his thoughts rendered speechless for what seemed a long time. He still bent his leg up and down, testing its structure before nodding a thanks to Remus. Roman smirked, but rolled his eyes at his friend who was playing with his new accessory. “Well, Remus has outdone me. How am I meant to compete with such,” He dramatically held his hand on his forehead, leaning back onto his bed with a woe in his voice. Remus snickered, and snatched the present away from Roman to give to Logan. </p><p>Unwrapping the present delicately, Logan opened the box and pulled out the present. Compared to the last, it was rather heavy. It was a miracle Roman could pull it from under his bed, and Remus held it with ease - he supposed Remus was the strongest out of the trio. Settling it down on the ground, Logan knelt down and opened the rather large box. </p><p>It was filled with different keys, the letters of the alphabet scrawled from across and each button clicking when it typed something. It was large and compactable, but the sleek metal designs from the side were carved with subtle constellations. Logan’s name was scrawled with a cursive writing on the bottom corner, and the detective felt himself attached to the typewriter. From the bottom of the box were clean paper, a navy blue pen and a fresh journal book. He didn’t know which present was better, but he gave both his friends his gratitude before they all walked out towards his own room. Roman carried his old leg and Remus held his new typewriter as Logan lagged behind, getting used to his newest leg. </p><p>Waiting for Logan to catch up with the brothers, the detective held the key to his door and turned the knob for everyone to enter. Twitching the key, Logan raised an eyebrow at the already unlocked door, and carefully crept inside, motioning for both Roman and Remus to do the same. Whoever inside might be the murderer awaiting for their return, standing from behind a door with their weapon ready to fire. Was Logan too late solving the murder? Would they all get shot? Logan hesitated opening the door, but decided to open. He considered the outcomes, and held his breath when he stepped inside. </p><p>“Happy Birthday Lo- Bud, why are you holding your lungs?” Virgil asked, hopping off his bed and strolled towards Logan. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>Logan breathed in relief, nodding to Virgil and sitting beside him, the brothers occupying Logan’s sofa instead. “Apologies, I thought you might have been someone else.”</p><p>Holding a lumpy, wrapped present in his hands, Virgil glanced at Logan with darker eye bags for his gaze. He looked stressed rather than tired, rubbing his arm whilst waiting for the other to collect his present from his hands. Logan plucked the present from Virgil and opened it to spare the others’ awkward, slumped posture. Holding up a hand knitted sweater, Logan shrugged his black coat off and replaced his suit top with a dark blue sweater, decorated with vertical stripes and long sleeves. It felt as if the sweater hugged the detective, and felt more immensely warm without his coat already. He flapped one arm, and started to flap both arms at the same time to consider the lengths of the sleeves. </p><p>“It’s made for colder climates, and the sleeves are for you to well, flap with, since I saw you flopping with some of your oversized long sleeved clothing around this time last year,” Virgil explained, giving Logan another present from behind his back. “I also made this for you. It was meant for Christmas last year, but we never saw each other last time, so…” </p><p>Giving him a thankful smile, Logan whispered his gratitude and opened the last present. It had the same feeling as the one before, lumpy like if it was another piece of clothing. Propping his coat back on, Logan buttoned the clothing and relaxed under the warmth of the weight with the sweater and coat together. Pulling out the long trail of fabric, Logan tied the garment around his neck, admiring the black tassels and navy blue patterns. Kneading it into his coat as well, the detective stood taller than before, smiling to his friends. </p><p>Everyone stood with him and prepared to exit his room before Roman tucked the leg away inside the closet, and Remus shoved the papers from Logan’s desk away to make room for the typewriter. Several papers scattered on the ground, but one perked his interest when he saw hearts doodled all over the sheet, the initials ‘P.W.” and “L.E.” written along with the hearts. It seemed like Logan’s writing, compared with the actual notes scrawled in his cursive writing. Remus suppressed his laughter before signalling his brother to come join him. Virgil walked along curiously, and Logan peered over their shoulders before letting out a squeak of embarrassment. </p><p>“Oh, Lo, you got it bad…” Virgil whispered to himself, chuckling as Roman heard the other speak. </p><p>“That’s what I said yesterday,” Roman exclaimed, snatching the note from Remus’ hands to read. “Actually, I haven’t read what he did since Lo-motionless was so quick to hide it.”</p><p>Both Logan and Remus groaned in unison, the latter being louder from the sad attempt. “Really, that’s your best nickname?”</p><p>“As if you can do better, Outgrown rat.”</p><p>“Pretentious Prickle-”</p><p>“Tentacle dick-twist-”</p><p>“Cracked mirror-”</p><p>“Penis biter-”</p><p>Remus giggled from the last name, patting Roman on the back. “I like that one, speaks for the soul.”</p><p>Virgil snickered at the note in Roman’s hands, whilst Logan tilted his head. He wasn’t mad at the brothers, at the moment, but rather taking interest in what Remus said. Logan knew he shouldn’t take the man seriously, being known for his gruesome questions and all, but he also wondered if something was true. It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?</p><p>“Remus, are you also homosexual?” He said bluntly, catching the trio by surprise. Remus stared at Logan, and contemplated his answer before tapping both Roman and Virgil by the shoulders, to consider his answer before vocalising it.</p><p>“Logan, my buddy, amigo, uhm, ami? That’s the French word for friend, right?” Remus whispered to both the people beside him, who nodded in confirmation. Logan rolled his eyes, and waited for Remus to finish his sentence. “You’re a fucking dumbass.”</p><p>“Am I now?” He retorted.</p><p>“No offence, L, but you suck with these types of things,” Virgil said. Giving Remus a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, Remus inhaled a large breath before continuing; this would need more patience than the man could ever muster.</p><p>“Le weenie, remember when we were teenagers that I literally pointed at a guy my age on the street and said ‘OI, THAT CHAP LOOKS LIKE HE COULD CLAP MY CHEEKS’ and you shrugged? Literally all you did was stare at the guy and said ‘yeah okay cool right fine why does it matter Remus?” </p><p>“I honestly don’t remember, and it’s remarkable that you remember yourself that long ago. I also wouldn’t have said so many words at once so there might be an inaccurate memory somewhere-”</p><p>“No Logan, you literally said ‘why does it matter, and why is that interesting?’ then passed it off as if it was another of my usual outbursts? Well, news flash genius, that was my homo fucking sexual out coming about to bite someone’s ass instead. How many times have I flirted with other guys? Or being affectionate with them compared to girls? Heck, even talking about boys more than girls? Logan, just-”</p><p>Remus felt his patience thinning, holding his head as he leaned into Roman for support. Closing his eyes, Logan muttered something to himself as he stood there, Virgil swaying side to side to occupy his time instead. Straining his ears, Virgil huffed when he couldn’t pick up anything audible from the other. “Logan? What did you say?”</p><p>Shifting his weight into his right leg, Logan held onto his sleeve and pulled onto his coat. “I said how would I know if I never felt the same interest in the first place?” </p><p>“Wait, what? Logan, what does that mean?” Remus asked. “I thought you didn’t care about what I liked, or whom I liked, or thought you were maybe too dense to even bother learning something about me, despite knowing a fuck lot about the most random shit. You did care about me, right? And whatever else I did?”</p><p>“Remus, I would care if you found someone and decided to marry them. That’s what friends do, right?” </p><p>“Right, what does that gotta mean?”</p><p>Resorting to sitting down on his bed instead, Logan relaxed under the soft mattress and lifted his wooden leg onto the bed for support. “It means I’ll support you no matter what happens, Remus, even if it means I wouldn’t be able to comprehend your attraction.” </p><p>“But how-”</p><p>“Let it go, Remus, it’s the guy’s birthday,” Virgil moved to sit beside the other. </p><p>“Look, Remus, I understand why it’s important, considering it’s both illegal and a factor of your identity. I wouldn’t blame you for being emotionally charged as such, and only now do I understand what you mean by ‘liking the boys’, as I myself…” </p><p>“Wait a stinking minute. Are you telling me that the P.W. is Patton?” </p><p>Sarcastically clapping, Remus gave the young engineer a round of applause while Roman chuckled from the other’s surprise. "Congratulations Virgil, you would be the last person to officially know in this small group." Roman said. Finding his open mouth adorable, the red sweater man closed the other’s jaw, lingering his touch for a subtle moment before Virgil noticed anything different. Instead, Virgil turned crimson from the touch, feeling to itch away but stood where he was; he felt like he was the same colour as Roman’s attire.</p><p>“Use protection guys, don’t want Virgil getting STDs,” Remus said, smirking when both parties flinched away awkwardly. </p><p>“What about me?” Roman asked.</p><p>“Nah, Virgil’s gonna live a longer life than you buddy,”</p><p>“But both purp man and I are literally the same age-”</p><p>“Yeah, but his life is more valuable than yours, dear pain-in-my-ass,” </p><p>As Roman shrieked from the comment, Remus snickered louder from his brother’s antics. With a hand over his chest, Roman leaned backwards and sighed before Remus shoved him to the ground. His laughter grew louder, and soon Roman tripped Remus to the ground and resulted into a tackling game on the ground. Curling their legs up onto the bed, Logan and Virgil watched in amusement. Logan shook his head as Virgil stared back at the detective, a small grin graced his lips from an idea forming in his head.</p><p>“So Logan…” He said, “Do you like Patton?”</p><p>“Yes? Why wouldn’t I? He’s a nice companion and cares for people while grieving for another, which he should resort to taking care of himself first.”</p><p>“No, do you like... like him?”</p><p>“I do like-like him…? Why the excessive ‘likes’? It would still mean the same if without; he’s just a good person and friend despite the conflicts from the past week and a bit. However…” </p><p>Virgil leaned back onto the wall, crossing his arms and swaying his foot side to side. Looks like getting Logan to confess wasn’t going to work, and he huffed from his failed idea. He should may as well play along with Logan’s thoughts. “However?” </p><p>“Remember when we found him sneaking around the train just a few nights ago? Vaguely, I remember him with us whilst drunk.”</p><p>“Logan, a few people have been doing that lately,” Roman called out from the ground. “Janus was outside his cabin this morning looking for his pen, which we need to give back by the way,”</p><p>Logan nodded to Roman’s comment, returning his attention back to Virgil. “There are no suspects yet, as focusing on one person would be detrimental to the case. I have not found the murderer, or theorised who it could be yet without the evidence needed to support these claims. Relying on emotions and bias connections is…” Logan fling his hand as a gesture to his thoughts. “Unreliable. But, the suspicious behaviour of Patton alone…” </p><p>“Are you saying that guy is the murderer?” Remus asked, who is now sitting on Roman’s back. “It’s always the ones you least expect…” </p><p>“Hang on, Patton? Your lover? The man of your dreams?” Roman sounded appalled by the idea, trying to get up from Remus’ weight on top of him. “But he’s your prince, why would you expect him to be the killer? You know what I bet? I bet he cannot even fathom the idea of killing someone. He’s too pure, too innocent of such a thing,” Finally shoving Remus off, the older brother stood and brushed the dirt off his clothing.</p><p>“Roman, I cannot rely on my emotions to never suspect them. Besides, there are no suspects yet, just a thought of the case thus far. Besides, it still could be Janus, despite the pens - do you think he still has the pen for this case? He is a journalist after all,”</p><p>“Yeah, a dirty two-faced snaked journalist who writes as much bullshit as he wants for fame.” Virgil sneered, curling his legs towards his torso instead with vapour in his hiss. “Don’t trust him, whatever happens. I can guarantee you, he is the murderer himself.”</p><p>Laying on the ground, Remus held his arms up to gather the boy’s attention. “Okay ladies, you know who I think the most?” </p><p>The trio kept quiet, giving Remus his chance to speak instead. “I think it could be Patton, like what Logan said, but have you asked the workers yet?”</p><p>“No, it cannot be Patton. He’s like the love interest of Logan’s story - heck, the guy never thought of romance until now, he’s Logan’s emotional awakening-”</p><p>“Jesus Roman, don’t get your dick stuck in a twist - oh wait, it’s too small for that to happen, never mind,” Remus poked his tongue out at his brother, who Roman returned the favour by doing the same. Both Logan and Virgil sighed in disappointment, one holding their head in their hands with the other combing their long fringe over their eyes. Virgil never thought he didn’t want to see the either of them; he just wanted to pretend he wasn’t in association with them.</p><p>“Why are we friends with grown children?” Logan asked himself.</p><p>“Your friends, I’m gonna pretend they don’t exist.” </p><p>Both the brothers shrieked from Virgil’s words, Roman sounding the most offended. Quirking his lips, Virgil snorted from the sound. “The famous ‘offended Princey’ arrives again.”</p><p>“Ha ha, you’re so funny. Anyway, so let’s forget this murder and focus on the birthday boy-”</p><p>“Roman, I am 34 years of age, I don’t need a day dedicated for my birth-”</p><p>Before Logan could continue his sentence, Roman shushed him and pulled him off his bed. “Okay, monsieur detective. What do you usually do for your birthday that isn’t work related?” </p><p>Logan stayed quiet from the question, humming instead when Virgil and Remus both decided to get up as well. </p><p>“Alright, birthday plans commence. No more murder discussions on the special day - we are going to cele-brate.”</p><p>Motioning the trio to follow him, Roman strutted to the door and jogged to the commons carriage where their celebration would be held. They decided to leave the excited man be, and caught up to him in their own time. For now, Roman has to plan a party with his partner in crime: Remy.</p><p>-*- Chapter break (1/2)</p><p>“Honey, I was busy icing the cake for god's sake. Let the lord mourn over this creation if you destroy it.” </p><p>The chef poked his tongue out while holding a piping bag filled with icing. Decorating the birthday cake, Remy concentrated as the swirls from the nozzle flowed with its unique shapes and topping. Inside the kitchen quarters was a mess, with an overcrowd of people in charge of different stations, and a few workers who visited the kitchen to carry platters and drinks outside for the five who currently live inside the train. </p><p>“Rems, god wouldn’t dare even poking you, and neither would I,” Roman chuckled, sitting on the table beside the cake. “It looks so good - AYE REMUS, DROP THE GRAMOPHONE AND I’LL DROP YOU-” </p><p>In front of the kitchen doorway was Remus carrying the gramophone, the discs balancing on top the box and the horn wobbly from where it was built in. Remus’ own creation. He also had a spanner and screwdriver on standby hanging from his back pockets. Tip-toeing to the bench where it should be placed, Remus dropped the box and watched the discs scatter everywhere, bouncing from the table onto the floor. </p><p>“Whoops,” Remus said, giving his brother a smirk. “Guess I’ll have to fix it~”</p><p>Sighing, Roman held his head in his hands and groaned. “I swear, all you had to do next was clean the floors Remus, CLEAN!” He yelled from frustration. </p><p>“Which I don’t want to do, and don’t you bother getting me near the soapy son of a bitch either. I AIN’T CLEANING NOTHIN!”  </p><p>“SO YOU’D RATHER DESTROY YOUR OWN WOOD PROJECT BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO MOP THE FLOOR?”</p><p>“YES I WOULD DESTROY MY OWN PROJECT BECAUSE I AIN’T MOPPING THAT FUCKING FLOOR. SOMEONE ELSE - ahem, you Romana - CAN MOP THE FLOOR INSTEAD,” </p><p>“AND I’M ALREADY BUSY WITH THE-”</p><p>Graciously, both Patton and Janus opened the doors to the common room while chatting amongst themselves before turning their attention to the screaming brothers. Both men flinched from the screaming, Janus clenching his gloves hands and covered his ears while ducking his head, Patton stepping backwards in a defensive stance. Their eyes twitched from the sound, and took a moment to regain their surroundings to realise neither the brothers were giving each other a roar to fight, but rather commanding the other whilst complaining. </p><p>“Kiddos, could you lower your voices down for your good ol’ pops’ and Jan. Your screams sound far too familiar for the either of us,” Patton winced, lowering his guard when there was a lack of danger. </p><p>“Patton? OH PATTON!” Roman hurriedly rushed to them, holding his arms out for the both of them to hug. Pulling Janus into the hug, Roman patted their backs before checking over them again. “We are so sorry - we didn’t realise we sounded like… uhm, what did it sound like?” He chuckled awkwardly, giving a glare at Remus when he gave the other a cheeky wave. </p><p>“Sorry, Roman. For me at least, it sounded like the roars of the trenches,” Janus said, with Patton nodding along.</p><p>“Sounds like the trenches, or the pilots letting out their cries before flying into the one-way suicide zone,” Patton shifted his weight from side to side, blinking his sight away from the clouds to the wooden floorboards instead. He made a whirring sound before waving his hands around as if a plane exploded, hiding his thoughts with a silly action instead. “Not to worry, kiddo, we’re both fine and well. Happy dandy landy,” He giggled from the word play. “What is this all about anyway?” </p><p>Gesturing to the scenery unfolding, Both Janus and Patton trailed their eyes from the streamers hanging above them connecting to each lamp shade and chandelier hanging from above, to Remus laying on the table with a screwdriver in hand. Strolling over to Remus, a gramophone was being reconstructed from its broken wooden parts, and Janus picked up a few discs to inspect. </p><p>“Band tunes? Wow Roman, you have such <em> lovely </em>taste,”</p><p>Roman raised an eyebrow at Janus. “And what might you suggest?”</p><p>“Jazz, one and only. It’s growing popular too, the many front page headlines are saying it’s the new uhm, groove? Oh god that sounds awful.” Janus gagged from the word, sending shivers down his spine. Patton continued looking around the room and saw Remy decorating a cake from behind the doors, his stomach growling from how edible it looked.</p><p>“What might all this be for? Ooh, is it a party?” Patton clapped from the suggestion, standing on his toes with excitement. </p><p>Roman slung his arm around the smaller friend, grinning. “Of course, it’s Logan’s birthday.”</p><p>Blinking to register the statement, both Patton and Janus went pale, uttering the same word together.</p><p>“What…?”</p><p>“Yeah, his birthday present is getting his arse off and socialising with all of us for once.” Remus quipped from where he was working with the gramophone, taking his sweet time fixing the instrument instead of cleaning. When he glanced up to see the guys again, he noticed Roman was the only person left in the room.</p><p>“What just happened?” Remus asked.</p><p>“The both of them left to get gifts?” Roman questioned himself rather than answering Remus, who shrugged as a response.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“I swear I had it here… Oh, here it is,” Janus rummaged through his bags until he pulled out a bottle green object. Slurring the bottle around, he admired the red liquid inside swirling, combining the flavours together. A wine bottle, from the provinces of France and made in 1890, making it sweeter and more refined than most wine. Sitting on his chair, he decided to get up and give it to the other personally before meeting at the party. Hopefully, he liked his gift. </p><p>Strolling through the cars, Janus peered through the different doors decorating each carriage, waiting to find one with Logan’s name printed temporarily. He took a look outside the train, and hummed at where they were. He couldn’t say for certain, but if his geography was correct and his times travelling in the same railway lines, he can assume they’re still in the eastern borders of Russia. Janus took a moment to remember how large the border was, and shrugged to himself before he knocked on Logan’s door.</p><p>
  <em> Knock, knock. </em>
</p><p>The door opened to reveal Logan inside, seemingly conversing with Virgil in the meantime. Welcoming Janus inside, Logan sat down in his chair while Virgil scooted away from the journalist, sitting at the edge of the bed instead. Giving the other a hiss, Janus sneered before composing himself, clutching on the wine bottle tightly. </p><p>“Not in front of Logan, Virgil, give the man a break.”</p><p>“Yeah, give him a break.” Virgil mimicked, glancing to Logan who had his eyebrow raised curiously. “Sorry Logan.” They said in unison.</p><p>“It is quite fine. Is that a wine bottle in your hands, Janus?” </p><p>“No… It’s not as if it’s the finest wine in my collection, red with the best fermented grape the company had to offer.” Janus gave the tentative man the bottle, tilting his head from the lack of response, both verbally and from his empty expression. Examining the bottle, Logan could feel the hangover he had a few days ago, an ill taste of vomit slurring in his throat and the memories from his drunken state returning; he wasn’t sick, but he felt uncomfortable from the bottle in his clutch. </p><p>“Thank you, Janus.” Virgil grumbled. “Could you give Logan your second gift now? Which happens to be leaving us alone?” </p><p>Janus crossed his arms and his legs, sitting peacefully away from Virgil. “And what if I don’t? Is it wrong for me to talk to Logan like a civilised human?”</p><p>“No,” Virgil retorted. “But It’s wrong for a murderer to walk free.” He seethed through his teeth. </p><p>
  <strike> <em> Murderer? </em> </strike>
</p><p>“Says the one who cannot even protect their friends properly. You can’t even hold a gun properly without it shaking, so don’t even attempt name calling as your defence mechanism.” Janus huffed, turning away from Virgil to avoid his stare. “Come now Virgil, don’t you think you’re being childish? Eccentric? <em> Weird? </em>” </p><p>“Fine then, I’ll take the leave.” Virgil hopped off the bed, slouching his back to appear smaller. “Logan, if you don’t go to the dining hall in half an hour, I am going to rescue you from this slimy bastard.” He left the room without another word, leaving the door open wide. Logan leaned over to close it, although there was no click to signify it was properly locked. He got up to lock it, but Janus shook his head.</p><p>“It should be fine, since the noise of the train clicking with the rails should be enough to lower our volume.” </p><p>Logan closed it anyway, glancing at the other. “Perhaps, since we can both hear ourselves in a normal volume compared to outside where the most noise is generating. The frequency waves from the wheels clicking with the tracks cannot enter as well inside the cars because of the thick walls the train sustains for each carriage.”</p><p>Taking his hat off, Janus threw his hat up in boredom as Logan spoke, stopping when he realised he stopped speaking. “I must say, you are quite intelligent.” Janus said instead before Logan could realise he wasn’t listening. “What might you do for a career? I believe you have never spoken of it before. You sound like a scientist from the way you speak.”</p><p>Logan hummed, thinking of the idea. “I suppose you could say. For studying the stars; you know?”</p><p>“No,” Janus chuckled. “I don’t know.” </p><p>Nodding, Logan crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair. If Janus didn’t know much about astronomy, then it would be easier for Logan to dodge around his detective job. Needed to be provided by any point; he could pretend he was one, but his knowledge could only go so far without being a professional on the subject. Janus didn’t seem to mind. They both sat in a comfortable silence, and when neither decided to leave the room, Logan took the opportunity to interrogate the man for a while.</p><p>“So, Janus,” He started. “Are you feeling alright from the news from a week and a bit ago?” </p><p>“In truth, I’ll probably be far from it.” Janus admitted. “There’s a killer in the train, Logan. I don’t think anyone here is sleeping properly, or even relaxing. It’s just constant paranoia.” </p><p>“I see.” Logan took a mental note, drumming his fingers on his forearm. He supposed that's how everyone is feeling, even himself some nights. He observed Janus’ behaviour, his foot tapping on the air with his legs crossed as well as his arms, his fingers fiddling with something in his hand as he conversed. He kept glancing away every now and again, as if he was agitated about something, or nervous. Why would he be nervous? Or worried? It’s just Logan; it’s not as if the murderer’s in the room. </p><p>“Janus, how do you feel about Thomas’ death?” He asked instead.</p><p>“How do I feel about the victim?” Janus said, turning his attention back to Logan. “I suppose I'm a bit upset. I didn’t know the guy much, but we did talk to each other sometimes if we’re travelling to the same places.” </p><p>“What would you talk about?” Logan didn’t sound suspicious, so he leaned back and relaxed his posture. He had to look supportive.</p><p>Janus cleared his throat, taking his gloves off and putting them back on absentmindedly. “We would talk about where we’re going, or what we’re doing in our next destination,” He mumbled. “I would ride this train a lot, and so would he, so it wasn’t as if it was by accident we meet each other every now and again.”</p><p>“So did you know he was on this train?” Logan said casually.</p><p>“I suppose, he did mention on our last trip he would be here. He said about doing this around Europe trip,” Janus laughed to himself from a thought, although it was hollow and lacked his charismatic spirit. “He’s the reason why I’m here if I had to be honest. Suggested the secret trip to me, and I paid my ticket to come. Granted access to go, so I was ‘invited’.” </p><p>Nodding, Logan hummed to himself. Janus was an opportunist, it seemed. The murderer, he killed for a key, his motive. Opportunity? It would be logical to consider. Both Janus and Patton seemed suspicious to him - but then again, they also seemed like the normal witnesses he dealt with in the past. They didn’t know there was a detective on the train, but isn’t that the best excuse? At least Janus had a reason to be on the train, merely travelling with the company and by coincidence a murder happened? Logan still didn’t know much about Patton if he were to admit. No suspects yet, he reminded himself continuously. Then again, he didn’t believe Janus was the murderer, but a person who was unfortunately involved in a murder case. </p><p>“Seems fair,” Logan said. “But a question-”</p><p>“As if you didn’t ask too many.” Janus rolled his eyes. </p><p>Logan huffed. “A question- where were you when the train started to leave King’s Cross?”</p><p>“Oh,” Janus said. “I was talking with Remus before the train started to move, and went to my cabin stay.” </p><p>
  <em> So Remus is his alibi... I’ll have to confirm with Remus, but if it’s true, then he wouldn’t be present for the murder. It would be impossible to travel to Thomas’ cabin in 10 minutes, taking a good half an hour at least from where Janus was staying.  </em>
</p><p>Logan thought to himself, remembering Janus’ cabin was just beside the dining hall. He glanced at the clock, and commented on the time. It was just half an hour ago when Virgil left the pair alone, so they both got up to walk to where he should be. “Virgil is going to kill me if I didn’t show up,” Logan grabbed his thick, black coat from the coat hanger near his door. </p><p>“I’m sure he will,” Janus drawled out. “He would kill to prove something. He always speaks of how he would defend his friends, but he cannot fathom the idea of holding a pistol if his life is dependent on it.”  </p><p>“What do you mean?” Logan’s curiosity sparked, although a little bit of anger bubbled inside him too. What did Virgil do to Janus? And why is Janus annoyed all the sudden? Logan thought to himself: is this what Roman calls ‘moodiness?’</p><p>“It’s a little annoying when he acts tough, because he’s just too cowardly.” Janus’ pace picked up a little bit, and Logan felt himself slowly limping to keep up with the sudden pace. “He wants to be brave, but that guy will do something stupid just to prove something, and it will include murder.” </p><p>“I doubt that Janus-”</p><p>“No Logan. I’ve seen something similar happening before. It’s why he hates me.” Janus finished the conversation, daring Logan to speak. Logan opened his mouth to retort, but Janus placed a finger to his lips and shushed him. “To get this clear, I don’t hate Virgil- I just heavily dislike him.”</p><p>“But isn’t that hate-”</p><p>Before Logan could finish, Janus opened the door to the dining room and met eyes with Virgil standing in front of them.</p><p>“I was convinced Janus killed you, Logan.” </p><p>“And I’m convinced you’ve been too dramatic,” Logan said. “You might be hanging out with Roman again too much again - it might be easy to fall into a cognitive distortion, but believe me when-”</p><p>“AYE, alguien patea al cumpleañero fuera de la habitación!” Roman yelled out from behind the door, standing near Virgil. "REMUS."</p><p>“Bien... escoria real,” Remus snickered when he heard his brother gasp, his insult prickling the prince. Shooing Logan out, he dragged Janus into the room and stepped out himself, locking the door from behind to escort Logan elsewhere. The keys jingled in his pocket, and he internally cheered when he was distancing himself away from the soap he was forced to scrub the floors with. He could hear Roman’s outrages from the second cabin, and the sound of silence when he assumed Virgil whacked him with something. Good times. </p><p>A squeak was growing louder the further they strolled away from the dining cabin, and Remus knew it was his new contraption. “How is your birthday present?” He asked, an attempt of conversation before the silence internally kills him. </p><p>“It’s pretty good, Remus. I still need to limp more than before in certain walking speeds, but I can bend my knee and stand up straight without much trouble.” He admitted, furrowing when he only now realised he was being escorted away from the commons. “Where are you taking me, by the way?” </p><p>“To Patton, so you both can spend quality time together.” Remus smirked when he felt Logan tug away from his strong grip. “Relax book germ, it’s only your crush, the love of your life, the man of your dreams-”</p><p>“You sound like Roman.”</p><p>Remus shrieked from the insult. “Excuse me? Now you deserve to be forcefully socialising with someone.”</p><p>Logan stomped his foot on Remus’ foot, and frowned when the attempt failed. Instead, he tried other options, like hopping away with his actual leg, wiggling himself from Remus’ strong grip, and even kicking the guy in the knee. Proving futile and nearing Patton’s door, Logan huffed and allowed himself to be dragged away by Remus, sighing. “Look, if I’m not allowed to be in the dining room, can I at least read some books in my room? I just talked to Janus barely 15 minutes ago, and it’s impractical to see Patton without a proper reason to see him. Besides, it’s much more comforting and relaxing when I am alone by myself-”</p><p>“Logan, you are worse than Virgil.” Remus sighed. “Actually wait, both you and Virgil are roughly the same when it comes to talking to people - stop your introverting and do some socialising you big baby.”</p><p>“I am not a baby. I am a grown man who is being handled by someone against my will-”  </p><p>“And Roman said you’re not allowed to work today, and for the first time ever, I’ll have to agree with him.” Remus stopped walking and stood in front of Patton’s door. He wrapped his arm around Logan and binded Logan’s arms together by the sides with his strength in case he would leave. “You are meant to relax, Logan. That was the entire purpose of the trip!”</p><p>“Well apologies Remus if-”</p><p>The door clicked open before Logan could finish his sentence, and all the detective wanted to do was wipe the grin off his friend’s face. When Patton unlocked the door, he was greeted by the sight of Remus ruffling Logan’s hair, as if the detective was his younger brother. He giggled from the sight, and invited them both inside to sit near the window of his room. Remus picked Logan off the ground, and sat him on his lap instead of beside him, knowing that he could waltz up and leave the room. Closing the door, Logan resigned to his fate and slumped his figure. </p><p>Patton hopped onto a chair near his bed and picked up a few books from the table beside him. The room didn’t look customised or decorated for Patton, but it did have the common necessities for his luxury. It was messy, but not to the extent of Thomas’ room. A few clothes were tossed to different places, but it felt more casual than the other rooms Logan visited. Warm lights glowed the room, and a pale blue wallpaper with white stripes built a friendlier, homey feeling for the cabin. What did strike to Logan was the assorted luggage the man had. It seemed like he had bags to stay for months. Stacked on top of each other, he also took note of how different each case looked like; one looked like a black briefcase and another looked like a buffalo leather. Patton noticed Logan’s gaze, and cleared his throat to gather his attention back to him. </p><p>-*- Chapter break (2/2)</p><p>“So…” Patton fiddled with his thumbs, waiting for the both of them to fully pay their attention to him. “I never expected a birthday - especially for Logie, so I have a few books from the uhm... library.” </p><p>Remus snickered under his breath, trying not to holler. “Logie?”</p><p>“You be quiet,” Logan hissed, squirming under Remus’ grip. “Do you mind letting me go now?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>Patton giggled, waving away their antics and picked up the two books for Logan. “I didn’t know what you read or liked, so I assumed you’re the type to be into crime literature,” Patton explained, plopping the books beside Logan. “The first one is a recent history novel called ‘All Quiet in the Western Front’, and the other being ‘The thirty-nine steps’ from John Buchan. I’ve read the second one a few times and I do recommend, but I’m afraid they’re both in German if you cannot read the language fluently.” He rubbed his arm up and down, nervous of Logan’s reaction.</p><p>“That should suffice, since I’m fluent with German,” Logan quipped, reading the blurb of each book and observing the cover. “I haven’t read either, since I’m always fairly busy, so thank you, Patton.” He gave the other a small smile, where as the other beamed with pride. Remus sat up and unceremoniously dropped Logan, who made a thud on the wooden floorboards. </p><p>“You’re both being disgustingly adorable, so I’ll take my leave.” </p><p>He left them both alone, missing Patton’s cheerful goodbye and Logan’s annoyed expression. Perhaps missing Logan’s expression was probably for the best. </p><p>“So… Have you heard about Roman’s surprise party?” Patton attempted to make a conversation with Logan, until he realised what he just said. “Actually wait, forget I said-” Logan’s curiosity turned to what Roman’s planning, because it meant that Remus was in on it too and both the Suenos brothers working together meant trouble. Patton stammered out a question, but Logan missed what the other said.</p><p>“It’s a bit hard to forget such detail,” Logan said. “Don’t tell me Roman’s planning a birthday party for me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned internally. He’s going to assume it was a disaster. </p><p>“Okay, he’s not planning a birthday party for you.”</p><p>“Patton - I’m- okay.” Logan stuttered his thoughts, closing his mouth before he could do anything embarrassing in front of Patton. Instead, he thought of changing the conversation - the last time he did talk to Patton was a few days ago after all. “Thank you for the books. Crime fiction is a favourite of mine.” </p><p>Patton silently congratulated himself for the achievement, giving Logan a thumbs up as a welcoming gesture. The detective softly grinned from the expression, and Patton couldn’t help but feel more joyous than before. It was cute when Logan smiled - wait, cute? He shook the thought out of his head, and wanted to move on to something else. Logan didn’t seem to notice, even chuckling quietly from the other’s softer giggles. It was a feeling that floated inside them; it was a feeling that felt <em> right.  </em></p><p>“Hey, so… What is your musical taste?” Patton asked from out of the blue, confusing the man rather than intriguing him. </p><p>“Why is that a question?” He raised a brow, shaking his head while holding it in his hands. “Don’t tell me Roman or Virgil is choosing the music - actually, do tell me since I know what horrible joke you’ll make.” He learnt Patton’s love of jokes from the first time. </p><p>“Okay, Roman is choosing the music.”</p><p>“Oh god,” Logan laughed. He didn’t know why, but he felt more comfortable around Patton, and it was easier to loosen himself than any other person. He started giggling, remembering a story similar a mere few years ago. “Last time he chose the music, Remus threw the gramophone outside the window because he got tired of listening to ‘The Cabaret Girl’ on loop. So then we replaced the gramophone with the one Remus owned because they forbade sharing the same things.” Logan’s giggles died down slowly as he continued speaking, remembering the story clear as day. Patton leaned on his chair listening intently, Logan’s voice sounding like silk and his laughter more cheerful than who seemed to be. The relaxed, casual version of Logan who wasn’t drunk, but just enjoying himself. Patton wanted to see - no, experience - these days a little more often.</p><p>“What happened next?” He wanted the story to continue. He wanted Logan to keep laughing, to keep smiling with both his mouth and spark of life in his eyes. Logan was lively to him, his laugh like heaven and voice monotonous, yet suave and smooth. Only now did he take note of his figure. Of how his hair bounced lightly to the glasses sitting on his nose, or his tie and posture kept neat yet formally casual. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to hang out more with the man; he wanted to be with the man more than he first considered. Logan was smart, and he could hold a conversation about any subject. He knew more about Patton than the emotional man cared to admit - he wanted him like a partner. They already knew much about each other - they were perfect for each other!</p><p>Yeah, maybe Patton also realised he’s falling a bit<em> too </em>deep for the other.</p><p>“Alright. So, since Virgil and Remus share a similar musical taste, he trusted that Virgil would play a better song than ‘The Cabaret Girl’. Instead however, he found it exceptionally funny to play something equally cheesy and torturous.” Logan heaved out a breath, giving himself a moment of silence to replay the memory. “Remus, instead of turning the gramophone off, smashed it with a baseball bat sitting beside his bed and broke the instrument to pieces. To this day, he’s still reconstructing the gramophone because he refuses to buy another - A little illogical, considering the sum of money his family has.”</p><p>Patton opened his mouth in a realisation, humming his thoughts. “Is that why he was carrying a gramophone earlier?”</p><p>“I assume so, if you mean he was with a gramophone.”</p><p>Now Patton giggled from the short story, and Logan fell into a softer, mushy expression. Nobody could ruin the moment between them; and perhaps Logan should thank Remus later for resisting his stubborn behaviour. </p><p>Well, almost <em> nobody </em>could ruin the moment. </p><p>“LOGHAN!” Roman hollered into a tune, knocking on Patton’s door numerous times. The other felt his insides grow warm, and Logan groaned again from the sudden interruption of what he deemed his perfect conversation with Patton.</p><p>Grudgingly opening the door, Logan sighed and peeped through a small crack. “What do you require, Roman?”</p><p>“I require the birthday boy’s presence for his own grand ball.” Roman replied, flinging his arms gracefully with a smile on his face. Logan returned the gesture with a straight face, and locked the door instead. Muffled giggles from Patton was heard through the door, and soon enough Roman was banging for his attention. The laughter was growing significantly louder, and even another sound of giggles joined in. The detective couldn’t help if Patton’s joy was infectious - and oh, Roman would have to tease Logan for this later.</p><p>“If you don’t open, I will summon Remus to be my battle ram to open this door.” He imagined Logan’s scrunched face from thinking, and exclaimed a huzzah when the door opened. </p><p>“This is only because the idea of using your brother as a battering ram will pose many physical threats to his health, like a potential concussion-”</p><p>“Yeah yeah, as if he has a brain to deal any damage in the first place. Look, let’s go and eat, then we can have dessert okay?” Patton enthusiastically clapped to the suggestion, and Logan followed his friend to the dining room, a look of disappointment painted on his face. He still had to check the damage of the Suenos brothers working together.</p><p>-*-</p><p>“SURPRISE!”</p><p>Logan raised an eyebrow at the trio in the room, seeming unimpressed with his arms crossed and foot tapping on the cleaned, speckled floors.</p><p>“Aw shit, don’t tell me he’s figured this out again-”</p><p>“Look Virgil, this is why we give him the presents AFTER we plan the party and not Roman’s suggestion of doing it during the day-”</p><p>Logan scanned the scene, suppressing a sigh escaping his disappointed figure. Remus was sprawled out on the floor with his arms still in the air when he cheered out surprise. Virgil laid on the table with one arm dangled on the side and another covering his face, whereas Janus sat elegantly in a chair sipping a glass of wine. Roman stared at the trio, and Logan could note the red the crimson man glowed on his face, as if he was a kettle ready to whistle. Logan might not understand other emotions, but from reading; he could assume Roman was fuming. </p><p>“You… are all… FUCKING DISASTERS!”</p><p>“Thanks.” They all said in unison, and Janus held up his wine as if to toast. “I’d drink to that.” </p><p>As if on cue, both Remy and Emile walked out of the kitchen quarters together. Remy had his chef’s hat and apron tied around his torso, holding out a beautifully delicate cake, while Emile was chatting to him. Neither of them took note of the situation until they stopped their conversation for a moment. The sight of Roman in Patton’s arms dramatically as the curly blond patted his back sympathetically, to the three chaotic figures sprawled out on different furniture, or in Remus’ case, the floor. Emile jogged over to comfort Roman, but Remy couldn't decide whether the situation was hilarious, or disappointing. Logan stole disappointment, so Remy went for the latter.</p><p>“It’s ruined. Who told you there was a surprise party?” Roman whined.</p><p>“Roman." Logan said. "Every-time we meet on my birthday, you make it a mission to surprise me. You have failed numerous times before, and forego, you would’ve failed again.”</p><p>“Logan…” Patton muttered sternly, pointing at Roman’s cries of his miserable efforts. </p><p>“What? Oh - uhm, sorry Roman.” He glanced at Patton to check if what he did was fine, and Patton shrugged while nodding. At least the effort was there. Remy snickered quietly, and placed his perfect cake on the table for the others to crowd around. Shortbread biscuits surrounded the outside of the cake, and various berries with icing on top of the cake decorated the dessert. There was one candle sitting on the centre, but the red, blue and purple colours sat delicately beside one another. Logan recognised his national delicacy and felt his stomach beam in happiness: a Charlotte Russe.</p><p>“At least one thing didn’t fail.” Roman muttered when he gestured to the cake. Remus took out a matchbox from his pocket to light the cake, before watching it snatched away from his grasp for Virgil to light instead. Before he could cry out his dramatics similar to Roman, Janus gave him an unimpressed gaze. </p><p>He placed the wine glass down, clicking his tongue as he prepared to speak. “Remus, any supernatural force with half a brain will forbid you touching fire.”</p><p>“Is this because I would set something on fire?”</p><p>Everyone turned their attention away from Virgil lighting the candle to Remus, each wearing their own tired expression. </p><p>“Okay look, you set something on fire one time-”</p><p>“Re, all you gotta do is light something on fire once to be banned from a matchbox.” Virgil finished lighting the candle, waving the flame away and waiting for Logan to blow out the ceremony. Patton, Remy and Emile prepared the plates as everyone else sang the birthday song. Roman and Remus sang together, while Virgil stayed quiet; preferring not to sing. Janus spoke the French translation for Logan, and even Patton attempted the few French words for his friend. Despite everything happening the past week, Logan blew out the candle with a sense of pride. </p><p>It was probably the best birthday he had for a while, even if he’ll never admit it out loud.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AN: The editor wanted to cry when they saw what the cake looked like, and now I want to eat it as well-<br/>And yes, Logan's birthday isn't the 9th, but due to story timelines, I say it's his birthday. Would it be the 9th of November now? No. Is it actually near his birthday? Not even close. Is this chapter important? I guess so?  </p><p>New chapter: 23rd Aug. </p><p>Translation:</p><p>Ro: Aye, someone kick the birthday boy out of the room<br/>Re: Alright… royal scum-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. - Chapter 15 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Mentions of panicking</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To say everyone had a blast at the party would be an understatement. Despite being a bit too old for birthday parties, they considered it special since nobody ever sees the detective, and his two new friends, Patton and Janus, were there to celebrate with everyone. After eating the cake, they all decided to play some music chosen for the party, and relax. Another attempt of a group poker was made, except that Virgil, Remy and Emile joined in with the fun. They all played in teams (as Janus’ suggestion). </p><p>With more people playing, it meant everyone on the team had to contribute to a bet if they wanted to continue raising the price, and whoever the winning team was had a better chance of winning the money. Of course, Roman was confident with the suggestion, exclaiming how he would be the best in the game and win everything. Remus joined in with his brother’s antics, and so they paired as a team. Janus joined the brothers, because he believed they were both lower than awful, and needed some form of assistance while playing the game. Virgil, Remy and Emile grouped together as workers of the train, knowing that whatever they lose the Suenos brothers will repay them with. Neither Logan or Patton minded joining forces as a team. With both their competitiveness from the last time the pair played, it would’ve been easy to win. </p><p>Safe to say, it was easy to win, and neither of them knew why everyone was surprised by the revelation. Gambling aside, it was also a nice gift for Logan, whom he split with Patton. He didn’t mind much, since he helped assist him in the game - even if the brothers say otherwise. Everyone shared stories, danced and even drank a few bottles in courtesy of the party. Nobody drunk enough to be tipsy, but enough to gain the fulfilment of drinking alcohol every once a while. It was a calm, relaxing party; and Logan was thankful for the calmness, despite Roman thinking it was a disaster of a day. He did reassure him a few times, but Logan gained more satisfaction when he saw his friend’s ease. </p><p>Everyone went to bed afterwards though, Emile, Remy and Virgil volunteered to clean. Both the brothers helped for a while, but when they saw the working trio handling everything else, they bid goodnight and left for their comfort in their rooms. Sweeping the streamers off the ground, Remy grabbed all the used platters and food to bring to the kitchen. The Charlotte Russe was left on the table, and every now and again every stared at the leftovers of the cake. It did look good, and it tasted even better. </p><p>“Look ladies, we can nom on some cake when we finished everything alright?” Remy popped his mouth while drinking some coffee, sitting cross-legged on the table. He already finished his duty, so it was left to Virgil and Emile instead. Virgil was packing the furniture back to what it looked like before, and Emile was almost finished sweeping and untying a few balloons. Noting their progress, Remy left to retrieve a knife from the kitchen and cut them a few slices of cake as their own mini-celebration. “Are any of you tired?” he asked as an attempt at conversation. They both shook their heads, grabbing a fork to bite into the cake. </p><p>“Virgil - how is Logan going with the investigation?” Emile asked. He was much better than Remy at conversations, and Virgil felt internally glad from the lack of small talk. </p><p>Piercing his tooth through a berry, Virgil sucked on the juice and swallowed the fruit. “Logan says he doesn’t have suspects yet. Something about it being useless until he investigates everyone. Pointless and damaging to a case? The guy uses a lot of big words,” both Emile and Remy silently agreed to the last statement. “Anyway, something about no suspects. I don’t think he’s investigated into the scene or anything else much than he did at first, because he just went around asking people about the murder later before going back to the scene? I don’t know how this works-”</p><p>“And this is why I cook, Emile cleans and you make sure we don’t crash,” Remy sipped his mug. “Logan doesn’t make much sense, but the dude is good at his detective work. Doesn’t look like it at the moment, which I kinda expected him to solve this case on the day - it’s been a week now for god's sake.”</p><p>“Do remember that he tends to cancel emotional play into logical thinking, in which he needs logic whenever he investigates,” Emile quipped into the conversation. “3 of his long time friends are in a suspect list, 2 of his buddies - you and me, Remy - would be considered as suspicious and both Patton and Janus are also in the list. Just imagine how hard it’ll be to separate yourself from those relationships and consider the thought of arresting your friend for murder.” </p><p>Adjusting his glasses, he started to sit straight and rest his arms on the sofa rest, as if he was talking to a patient instead. “This is probably going to be the detective’s hardest case, because the people he never thought of committing something, are in his investigation. It’s why he’s probably taking everything slow, because if he gets it wrong, then he’ll ruin one of his relationships.” </p><p>The other two men stared at Emile, blinking in a thought process before slowly nodding. “You know, that makes sense…” Remy muttered. “Emile, this is why you would’ve been a great psychologist.” </p><p>“Awe shucks, Rem. Are you getting soft now?” Virgil snickered, his cackle loud when Remy shoved him.</p><p>“Oh hell nah. You mind your own goddamn business.” </p><p>Emile gave Virgil a small wink to confirm otherwise, and it took Virgil strength to not laugh again. The room washed over a silence afterwards, but it was a comfortable feeling compared to what it could’ve been weeks ago. Virgil started hanging out with Emile and Remy a little more after Thomas’ death, helping with Remy’s stress and Emile’s distress, because he knew what both felt like. </p><p>They grew a little closer, to the point where they can group together in a game of poker and eat cake, having conversations and sitting in a comfortable silence. Emile yawned and stretched his arms out, deciding to follow the others from earlier and settle into sleeping. Bidding his friends goodnight, he closed the door from behind. Remy checked that Emile truly left before he looked back at Virgil. </p><p>“Alright girl, who do you think the murderer is?” Remy asked, draining his last bit of coffee. Virgil was caught out from the question, mid way eating his cake before halting from the bite</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Remy clicked his tongue, staring down at Virgil with tinted glasses. “Don’t act surprised, I can already guess who it is. For once, I’ll agree with you.” </p><p>“Janus,” they spoke in unison. </p><p>“Although, I still think it can be Pat, but Janus…” Virgil’s words trailed off, instead looking down at the dessert in his hands. “I honestly don’t know Remy, and we shouldn’t be discussing this either.” </p><p>“The guy is fishy. I talked to Patton a bunch for Logan and I honestly cannot see the guy killing someone. He’s too innocent for it. Janus however? Imagine, a murder in a train gives him the front page headlines," Remy held his hands out as if he was imagining the headline, glancing back at Virgil to see if he understood him. The engineer looked confused, and Remy couldn’t blame him. “I don’t know girl, the guy looks suspicious.” </p><p>“Are you saying it because you have evidence or because Patton is too nice for his own good?” Virgil asked, sighing. “Look, as much as I hate Janus, it’s not a nice feeling if he’s convicted for a crime he didn’t commit. He might be an arse…” grumbling, he shoved the leftover cake in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “We shouldn’t be discussing this, it’s not our place to suspect people the detective doesn’t even suspect yet.” </p><p>“Fine,” Remy groaned, cutting another slice for both him and Virgil. Virgil looked dejected by the cake, and was going to put it back in the platter before Remy held his hand out to stop him. “I baked 2, one for us to eat and another for Logan to scoff down later.”</p><p>“Does he even like the amount of icing on this cake?” Virgil started poking his fork into the slice. “Logan doesn’t even eat sweets that much…”</p><p>“Virgil. I’ve seen the gremlin sneak into MY kitchen the last train ride and he fucking scoffed all our jam jars in the one night. Don’t you dare tell me he doesn’t have a sweet tooth.” </p><p>The engineer snickered from the story, remembering it far too well. “Forget I asked.” </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Remy remembered screaming at the man when he found out. Logan paid for the jam, but it meant there was no jam for the two days when they travelled from France to the Netherlands. A mess, to say the least. Remy stabbed his fork into a piece of the cake, and held it to Virgil as if to toast. “Here’s to Logan’s birthday fiasco, and for him to catch the murderer before he kills us all.”</p><p>Virgil could toast to that.</p><p>-*-</p><p>It wasn’t very long till Emile had to awake from his slumber, just going to bed a few hours into the early morning. He felt his eyes were heavy with sleep, a purple blob forming under his gaze that could rival his friend’s if he lacked more sleep. The worker knew the importance of sleep, but it wasn’t as if his health would be detrimental; he had a fun night after all. It sounds selfish, but he didn’t feel the need to grieve his friend, but rather celebrate with those who are close with him. Of course, what happened to Thomas still felt like the unimaginable, but he never had so much fun in weeks than he did when he hung out with Remy and Virgil. </p><p>He was strolling through the empty carriage when it was still a night fall outside, the sun hadn't reached the grassy hill peaks. However, Emile unfortunately had to do a few errands from the kitchen quarters to the front of the train, then sweeping any collective dust off the cars and finally wiping the windows clean before he could retire for the day. If he assumed the time, it would take until lunch time for him to finish if he started at 04:00 in the morning. </p><p>Strolling from his car to the kitchen quarters, Emile took his time before a feeling irked inside him. A gut feeling pinched his stomach, and suddenly he felt his senses alert and cautious. He recognised the signs of the adrenaline pumping inside his body, and made an effort to trod slowly to the kitchen quarters, just in case it was something else. However, ever since his friend’s death, his body was always on a constant high alert. It was as if he would be next, if the murderer was behind him ready to shoot his brains. Checking behind him and staring forward from his path, Emile kept quiet. </p><p>The lights from above him started to flicker, and the heating from the steaming train was slowly growing cooler by the moment. They were still in the eastern borders of Russia, but even then the chill was running through his spine. His eyebrows twitched together by the scene, and let out a yelp when the lights began flickering faster. Soon the lights went out, covering the cart into a pitch black vision. He already knew he had bad eyesight, but the lack of light was really getting into his vision. His nervousness was radiating from his body, and he felt himself jittering from both the temperature of the cabin and the looming dangers of his mind. </p><p>“Hello?” He attempted to call out, only to squeak instead. His body curled smaller, and the thoughts of him being the next dead body flashed through his mind. He muttered denials under his breaths, and felt his throat closing in and his skin pinching. Instead, he made a run to the kitchens. Faster he ran, slamming doors from behind him in case the murderer was to play with him next. The lights went out, and he knew Virgil wasn’t awake yet to turn them off. It had to be the murderer, it is the murderer. </p><p>It took Emile a few moments to remember that the common room was near the kitchen, and the kitchen was near the control panel of the train. His breath hitched but his heart still clenched tightly in his chest - where is his air? Why isn’t he getting any air? Spiralling thoughts of the murderer standing in the same room as pointing the gun to his face were flashing, even into a lighter, brighter imagery than the dark horror his mind had before. Clutching onto his hair, he focused on his breathing - an anxiety attack, he proposed to himself. He knew he wasn’t calming down, collapsing on the floor with his knees buckled together. Footsteps vibrated through the floorboards, and Emile screamed his lungs when he felt someone poking his shoulder.</p><p>“Emile? What are you doing?” Patton asked, crouching down to Emile’s level to take a better look at the distressed man. Emile stared at him as if he just saw a ghost, his body stopping from his panic and went pale and still. Tilting his head curiously, Patton reached for his hand and held Emile’s palm over his heart, taking big exaggerated breaths to calm him down. It took a few moments, but Emile felt himself calming, despite his body still shaking into a puddled mess. He assume the worst from the scenario in front of him, and he feared the thoughts were true. </p><p>“What are you doing, Patton?” His chuckle was dry, wiping his eyes dry from the tears.</p><p>Patton helped the other to stand, leading him to the couch to chat instead. “Oh,” He said in a cheerful manner. “I was taking a call from the front of the train just a few moments ago - is there something wrong?” </p><p>
  <strike> <em> Front of the train. </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Flickering, empty lights. </em> </strike>
</p><p>“There’s… there’s nothing wrong, Patton - I, uhm,” he cleared his throat. “What were you doing on the phone in this hour of the day anyway?” he asked him, rubbing his arm for comfort. Patton chuckled to himself, turning his awkward laugh into giggles.</p><p>“No need to worry Em,” he patted his head before sitting up from his spot, grinning. “I’m a bit hungry, so how about we cheer you up with some pancakes? I wanted to try cooking them the other day, but Remy was scared that I’ll light the kitchen on fire if I touched the oven.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>Patton sighed, but replaced his frown with a smile. “I set the kitchen on fire one time-”</p><p>“AND IT WAS ONE TOO MANY!” Remy called out from the kitchens, sending Patton into a happy fit. “Honestly, you think you can waltz into MY kitchen, cook food with MY oven, and you expect me to accept YOU in here? Absolutely NOT," he huffed, crossing his arms. Shaking his head, Patton had his hands on hips and looked at Remy with a goofy grin. However, Emile didn’t didn’t have the same energy as Patton did when they were together, but rather shifty and… scared? Remy didn’t question the off feeling aloud, but did wonder what made Emile upset again. It couldn’t be big, right?</p><p>-*-</p><p>“Hello, Remus,” Logan limped to him whilst waving to him to come closer, spotting the man in front of him in his cabin. It was early morning, and it was a safe assumption both men wanted some breakfast. Strolling with each other, Remus hummed to keep the silence away and Logan looked outside the windows often to see where the train was travelling. Nearing the common room however, Logan decided to ask a question.</p><p>“Remus, were you with Janus when the train started?” </p><p>Remus clicked his tongue, shrugging when he thought of the answer. “Yeah - are you asking for alibis now?”</p><p>Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Yes, so I can start deducing each victim as I finally have a rough idea of who could be the culprit," the detective tapped his nose in thought. “With each witness’ interrogations, it would be fairly quickly to deduce the rest of the bystanders and who the murderer is.” </p><p>They approached the door, and Remus had his hand on the knob, although he didn’t want to turn the knob yet. He curiously tilted his head with a gleam in his eyes, and a small smile graced his lips. Logan tilted his head up in response, except he had a small smile as well. Remus hummed while he had his hand on the knob, rocking on his feet as he thought of the question in his head. “So, I’ll assume you know who the murderer is by now, right genius?” </p><p>“We’ll see if your assumptions are correct,” Logan tapped his nose to match his friend’s antics and waited for Remus to open the door, frowning when the door wouldn’t open. </p><p>“Wait - you know who the murderer is already? All you have is testimonies-”</p><p>“And sometimes testimonies are enough for me to be convinced of something, because all I need is the evidence to prove my claims. Everyone’s reactions and mannerisms are enough to deduce, as well as your autopsy report. However,” he waved Remus’ hand away from the knob, opening it himself. “I just need to ask a few more questions and gather more physical objects as evidence, so this afternoon should suffice for an investigation. Alongside that, my organised and detailed reports of each person I’ve interrogated thus far has been finished from the few days I’ve been working. All the murderer has to do is find a good lawyer.” </p><p>Remus stared at his friend with amusement, his mouth open ajar and eyes widened. “You know Logan, I always thought it’ll be cool to be in a detective’s case - and I can say it is cool. Asombroso.” He clapped, awaiting Logan's response.</p><p>Logan glanced at Remus, “But the circumstances aren’t that lovely, Remus. Someone died for this to unfold.”</p><p>Shrugging, Remus trotted inside the room so he could feast on his breakfast. “But you have figured out a few suspects, right?”</p><p>Following him, Logan closed the door from behind and joined Remus on the breakfast table. </p><p>“You’ll have to wait and see.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AN: Hello. Like I said a few chapters before, I'm going to be on hiatus throughout September because of school, and the story will not be updated or worked with throughout that month. Another chapter-filled story is in progress, but might take longer than expected to keep the flow of the plot going (gotta love that writer's block).</p><p>Until then, thank you for reading and I'll see you all sometime in October? There might be one-shots published sometimes so do look out for that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. - Chapter 16 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Panic attacks</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Both Logan and Remus invited themselves to the common room, their gazes resting upon the few that were sitting on the round table in the centre of the area. Both Roman and Virgil seemed deep in a conversation, whereas Janus was discussing a topic with Patton. Logan couldn’t help but trail his eyes towards the blue and yellow pair, his mind was growing with several questions. Of course, by now they were suspects in his books, being the pair that have no clue of who Logan really is, and the fact that the both of them have motives to kill Thomas. He didn’t know he was staring until Remus waved his hand in front of his sight, blinking away his thoughts.</p><p>Logan didn’t know he was staring at Patton the most either; and he didn’t know if he was staring because of his affections or the possibility he could be the murderer. In truth, he didn’t prefer either of them, but settled with the irky feeling inside him twisting together like a coil. He sat next to Virgil instead of the vacant seat beside Patton. Remus sat next to Patton instead, and saw the twinge of disappointment on his face easily replaced with a giggly, goofy smile. Was he upset that Logan didn’t sit next to him? As Logan joined Virgil and Roman’s conversation, Remus caught Patton’s gaze towards the detective every so often. Janus stopped mid-sentence from his topic, and Remus suppressed a chuckle when it seemed Patton never noticed.</p><p>“Patton? I can always talk about something else if you wish,” Janus said, raising an eyebrow from the distracted man. The other was still distracted, and Remus let out a small snicker from the scenario. He attempted to do the same with Logan and waved his arms in front of Patton, clicking his fingers together to snap the poor man from his daydreaming. What Remus didn’t encounter however, was for the smaller man to grab his forearm and grip with a sudden strength Remus never knew he had, tugging on it slightly until he realised he was possibly stronger than he was. He’s meant to be the strongest of his group - the muscle, as Virgil would quip him as, what does this me-</p><p>“God you’re both equally as bad today,” Janus sighed, rolling his eyes. “Remus, stop staring at your forearm, and Patton, stop staring at Logan before you drool…” he slurred the last word, popping his mouth. Both men seemed to blink out of their hazy distractions, Remus tugging Patton’s strength away and the other twiddling his fingers together. Nobody else seemed to notice, and Janus thought to move to a group conversation instead. Topics were starting to bring up again, the Suenos brothers joining in with their ideas and opinions. Logan and Virgil kept quiet to themselves, enjoying their small chatter over their own topic.</p><p>Emile slammed the door open and puffed out a breath when he saw Logan and Virgil. He waved to both the men and knelt down beside them. Virgil stopped eating his egg and tomato roll when Emile squeezed in between them, raising an eyebrow at the new visitor. Sheepishly grinning, Emile cleared his throat to ensure he had both their attention before he could discuss his thoughts.</p><p>“You’re both gathered with me today,” he began, “because the lights were flickering when I was about to start my rounds this morning. I thought it was the... you… y’know... playing with the controls.”</p><p>Emile looked up to Virgil, noting his widened, undertone eyes and pause of his meal. His mouth was open as he was meant to take another bite, closing it as he hummed in thought. </p><p>“Logan, you come with me to the front of the train. You too Emile - you tell him as much as you know.” </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>The trio ran (or, limped) to the front of the page, in which Virgil held the door out for both people to enter inside. Logan peeped through the small window of the door to observe whether anyone noticed their sudden disappearance, and sighed in relief when no signs of confusion or suspicion washed over anyone. Emile continued following Virgil to the back part of the train, the trio waving their greetings to the hard workers shovelling coal into the fusers. One tipped their cap to the detective, and Logan nodded back until he heard a shriek from the engineer. </p><p>He poked his head to inspect the situation, and saw the mess in front of him. Cables were tangled everywhere in front of them, crowding from behind the door. Virgil had to shove his weight into the door to budge it open, and small circuits were poking the engineer as he sat down. Holding onto the table, he pushed past Logan and Emile to stare at the coal shovellers, shoving a broken cable at their sight. </p><p>“What town are we in?” He sneered, throwing the useless circuit on the ground. “This train needs to stop at the nearest industrial city, so where would that be?!” </p><p>A few of the workers glanced at each other, shrugging. “You need to find the driver. Is it Brian’s turn driving right now?” </p><p>Virgil stomped past the shovellers, finding his way to the front of the train. Steam was seething out of his face, compared to the steamers in the room. Logan took note of every worker in the room with him, including Emile, who stood beside him while fiddling with his tie. He noted how everyone looked the same - dirty, with coal dust staining their overalls and faces. Eye-bags moulded from their exhaustion, and strong, muscular arms from their shovelling. Their hands looked as if they were ripe with blisters from shovelling for the long hours, much dirtier than their attire if possible. Emile looked neat and clean compared to the others, but if his testimony was true due to the cables scattered everywhere, and his lack of motivation for the case, then…</p><p>“Excuse me, gentlemen?” Logan asked, eyeing each of them carefully. “Have any of you noticed anyone here this morning? We’ll say early morning,” if what he thought was correct, then all he needed to do was gather the evidence to support his claims. Emile stayed quiet as he stared down to the ground, gazing at the mess every now and again. Each of the men hummed in thought, and Logan took his moment to review the new scene, especially without Virgil present. </p><p>There was no coal dust in sight, or foot prints on the wooden floorboards. Logan easily deduced the shovellers wouldn’t have caused such a mess. There was no lock in the door behind him, but rather just the knob that blocked the space between the room and the corridor. He sniffed the air and noticed nothing unusual - no scent of sweat or ash from the fires, further proving his point. It was almost like a fragrance, although faint. Holding a piece of cable between his fingers, he noted how clean the cut was, as if it was sliced open instead of strength. The plastic covering prevented the wire to break, although it looked clenched tightly at some parts. </p><p>A sound echoed from behind the detective, a worker who spoke out to him. He cleared his throat and dried the sweat from his forehead.</p><p>“I heard someone this morning in here, just faintly though,” he started. “I forgot who it was for a moment, since I never thought of it being important till now.” </p><p>Logan stepped forward to the worker, shaking his head. “What have you heard, sir?”</p><p>He hummed, coughing out the fumes. “It wasn’t English, that’s for sure. I think the man tried English at first, but sounded like you Monsieur - so I went closer to where the sound was until I realised they were at the telephone station to the wall over there,” he pointed to where he was talking, motioning both Emile and Logan to follow him. Emile stared at the telephone, his face pale and icy from the words spoken to him this morning.</p><p>
  <em>I was taking a call from the front of the train.</em>
</p><p>“I think the man gave up with French and switched to a different language. Wasn’t Spanish - but like… angry? Like angry French- or- or... oh, frustrated Italian?”</p><p>“Perhaps you meant German - Emile, are you alright?” Logan turned his attention away to his friend instead, only now noticing how quiet Emile was. He wanted to poke him, and reached his finger out to do so until he heard a distinct, repetitive muttering from under his breath. The other muttered a name, their eyes browning louder and a panic bubbling through the room. Logan grabbed his hand instinctively and held it to his chest, taking deep breaths to hopefully calm the other down. “Emile, whoever it was, it is highly unlikely they’re in the same room with us right now. Would you like to walk outside with me to ensure your breathing is back at a normal pace? The fumes inside his boiler room would not be functioning well with your lungs.”</p><p>Emile shook his head, gasping for a breath. “I can’t-  the murderer is outside in the commons room. Oh god Logan, if they know I know, they’re going to kill me - They will kill me soon, I- I reacted this morning - I- they- They helped me out a lot before, so I think they think I’m just having outbursts of panic every so often - But, but if I return outside with them in the room- oh god Logan…” He whimpered, hiding his face with his hands. “I’m a dead man, I’m going to end up exactly like Thomas…” </p><p>As Logan held Emile close to him, Virgil slammed the door open to mark his presence, resulting in the other jumping out of his skin. He screamed from the sound, yelling out pleas as if the murderer was in front of him. The workers in the room were looking around frantically, finding anything useful for Emile to calm down from his distressed mind. One co-worker took the scarf off his face and gave it to Logan so Emile doesn’t breathe as much fumes. The detective took it graciously, nodding politely and wrapping it around Emile’s mouth gently while muttering his name for reassurance. Virgil bent down to curl up beside Emile, mumbling soft sounds and tapping his shoulder in a rhythm - the beats of the breathing technique. As Emile seemed to calm down, Logan decided to take out a pocket watch hanging inside his black trench coat and gave it to the other, instructing him to focus on the ticks of the clock handle to relax. </p><p>“Emile, you do not have to answer the question if you are uncomfortable by it as we can always speak of other topics,” Logan said, slowly bringing Emile to his feet with Virgil helping beside him. “Do you mind telling us who the murderer is? Or who you suspect, at least.”</p><p>Emile flinched from the word, his body twitching again. Virgil glanced at Logan as the detective suppressed a sigh, giving the workers another nod for a thank you. The trio left the room, both Logan and Virgil assisting Emile with walking back to the others. They all sat down away from the breakfast table, keeping Emile company until he was safe to discuss to another passenger or co-worker. </p><p>“Virgil, where might this train stop, may I ask?” Logan attempted to start a conversation, so at least the trio didn’t look suspicious. Virgil shrugged, grunting when he thought back at the mess of the cables. </p><p>“The driver said he’ll have to turn back and travel a few towns. Apparently the next town would’ve been in Czechoslovakia, and we’re borderline Ukraine, so he’s turning back to a part between Russia and Poland.” </p><p>Emile perked up from the mention of the countries, his interests piqued. “I remember Remy and I travelled to Russia once, as we worked in the same shift together. There was a funny story actually, because he mixed vodka into his coffee during our stay overnight.” </p><p>He had half a smile gracing his face, compared to Virgil, who was grinning. Logan was indifferent, but shared the same small burst of acknowledgement for Emile’s change in mood. “What happened when he was drunk?” Virgil asked, curious of Remy’s drunken side. </p><p>“Oh you have no idea,” Emile let out a small chuckle. “He wanted to play in the snow outside while it was night, claiming he wanted to make a snow angel.” </p><p>“What did you say, as a response?” Logan quipped. Emile’s smile grew into a sheepish grin, a tinge of pink in his cheeks. </p><p>“I asked him why he wanted to do that, and he said, ‘because a pretty angel like you deserves the best company,” he whispered the last part for the other two to hear, and he giggled from the memory. In fairness, it was probably the softest memory he had, and Remy was a hilarious drunk when he considered the events. Virgil snorted from the comment as Logan rolled his eyes; it was typical from Remy. </p><p>“What- what did you say next?” Virgil laughed through his words, imaging the scene clear as day.</p><p>“I said he was a delightful man, and he should quit the flirting while intoxicated.”</p><p>Virgil wheezed from the comeback, and swivelled his direction to the kitchen. As the door opened, Remy walked out with platters of breakfast in his hands. The engineer cupped his hands over his mouth, yelling at his friend. </p><p>“HEY REMY - YOU’RE HILARIOUS WHEN YOU’RE DRUNK!” </p><p>Remy took a moment to blink through Virgil’s comment, glancing to Emile who had red blotches in his face. Registering the comment, he was confused until Logan decided to help ease his thoughts, pointing to Emile and signing a hand movement as if he was taking a swig from a bottle. He then motioned his arms out and waved it up and down, like he was making a subtle snow angel himself. Logan stopped moving when he noticed the other’s face growing the same shade as his companion, which only increased Virgil’s loud laughter. </p><p>“Oh, you diD NOT JUST TELL VIRGIL ABOUT RUSSIA.”</p><p>“I told Virgil about what happened one time in Russia-”</p><p>“MOTHERF-”</p><p>“Father,” Patton screeched Remy’s curse into a halt, giving him a look instead. </p><p>“Brother, sister, uncle- Oh, is it not a word association game?” Logan asked, accidentally creating an awkward tension instead. Both the Suenos brothers facepalmed as Janus shook his head to Logan’s question. Remy placed the dishes down in front of those who ordered, and waltzed towards Emile to sulk in his lap. </p><p>“Girl- you did not shame me in front of our friends, he pouted. Emile patted his head as a response, leading to Remy to whine louder. Giggling at his antics, Emile felt his shoulders dropping and his energy dipping, but his body calming from the earlier fiasco. He supposed he should tell Logan about what happened, and suggest any action taking place. Emile can trust the detective. Propping Remy to get off him, Emile planted a small peck on his forehead and waved goodbye to his friend, later tugging Virgil and Logan’s sleeves for them to follow him. </p><p>The trio left the room without the others worrying much, claiming that Emile needed Logan and Virgil’s assistance to find something in his messy room. They shrugged the suspicion off, knowing how messy Emile’s room can get and even wished them all luck for finding the object Emile temporarily misplaced. Strolling through the corridors, Emile hid the pair behind a corridor, glancing every few moments to speak his testimony. </p><p>“Logan, do you have room to write what I would say about the… case?” </p><p>The detective shoved his hand in his pocket to retrieve his new pen, and another hand inside his black trench-coat to hold his journal for the case. Preparing his notes, he nodded to give Emile the sign to talk. Virgil held Emile’s hand in comfort, muttering small encouragements and providing support for his easily-distressed friend. He was grateful for Virgil’s company, and took a deep breath. </p><p>“I know who the killer is,” his stomach churned from the words, closing his eyes as he thought of the fiasco ending soon. It was for the best, the safety of himself and the others. “The train lights were flickering this morning before I could see Remy in the kitchens as I normally would, except I only saw one person emerge from the front of the train. They are the murderer - I cannot explain who else it can be-” </p><p>“Emile?”</p><p>He felt his skin chill, the fact that the person knows he is easily upset whenever he thought of the murder case. The fact that he would be upset more often whenever he even glances at the man - He’s going to die next, he knows this. Muttering out the statement under his breath, he sucked in a breath to calm his exploding heart beating against his rib cage. He felt his body drooping from the energy of his earlier panic, and just began to choke out a sob instead. </p><p>“He’s going to kill us next if he knows I know, he knows too well of my panicking.”</p><p>Emile felt his eye twitched as he closed them, relieving his body as he spoke the next few words. </p><p>“It’s Patton. Patton is the train killer.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm back.</p><p>Got some more free time, but this story will have its 2 week uploading schedule. In the meantime? Here's a chapter.</p><p>Another story is currently being written, so that might come out soon (no promises, but it would happen soon).</p><p>Might be intrulogical instead of the popular 3 - who k n o w s ?</p><p>Not the author apparently. Thanks for reading the ramble lmao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. - Chapter 17 -</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>TW: Mentions of mental illnesses (Depression, although referred to Melancholy), war themes, victim blaming, swearing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus watched the trio leave carefully as he glanced back to Janus, waving to Roman as well. He ignored Patton for the time being, and told the pair to come to the couch sitting near the wall in the other side of the room. Plopping himself on the sofa, Remus had his feet on the edge of the seat as Janus and Roman decided to sit on the ground beside Remus. Yawning as he flopped over to the pair, Remus gave his brother a small grin and a jingle in his pocket. Roman seemed to know what it meant, as he returned the same smirk to his younger brother. For Janus? He sat confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So Jannie, I know what you’re really here for,” Remus said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quirking an eyebrow, Janus huffed. “Oh really? What could you possibly know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus let out a low, growling chuckle as he pulled a key out of his pocket, dangling in front of the journalist. “I know you’re not here for the train travelling around Europe, you sly bastard. This key? This key is a ticket to something, and you know all about it, fucker.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning against the low half of the sofa, Janus stared at the key as a glint reflected on his monocle. It was a nice looking key, he had to admit. There was an indigo ribbon tied on the loop of the keyhole, a tinge of silver glistens from the sunlight. He rocked slightly at the movement of the train, the clicking of the wheels almost deafening in his ears. It wasn't as if he was affected by the train at first, but it almost became a comfort sound for him. As much as a comfort sound, since a murder did destroy the peaceful silence. He noticed Remus’ staring at him, his crazed, red eyes too close to his face and moustache tickling his own dry skin. Giving the other a small smile, he took the key from the other’s hand and held it himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what if I do know something about this key? What then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman decided to snatch the key way from Janus’ hands the moment the one-eyed man held the stiff metal on his clutch, and swung the key around from the ribbon. “Remus and I were discussing this lovely key yesterday while we prepared the party, you running away for something, I dunno,” He said. “But we were wondering… Since you know so much about the workers… did you happen to hear something that would’ve dropped as gossip?” Facing the other now, Roman combed his fingers through his hair as if he were to appear more convincing. “Maybe… If you knew… You could join Remus and I into discovering what the key’s for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact Roman…” Janus whispered. “Remy and I actually talked about Thomas… may he rest in peace,” He said while performing a quick cross from his forehead to his chest. “About Thomas… and we talked about this… treasure…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was enough to say, since the brothers audibly gasped at the revelation. A treasure? On this train? Why weren’t they told about the treasure? Wasn’t this something their father could’ve mentioned to them? He knew they were going to hang out with Logan in their train. The excitement of the news quickly turned into dread when questions raced through their mind. Both the boys felt a twinge inside them twist into a knot, Roman grasping at the lack of truth told to him. Thoughts swam in his mind about the mysterious treasure and the lack of trust his father had on his sons. It filled his mind, and Roman never noticed Janus waving his hand in front of him to regain his attention. Apologising for his sudden mood, Roman pulled Remus up from his seat and beckoned Janus to follow along, preparing themselves for unlocking the mystery on the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train was passing by Russia again, the winter ice that fogged the windows of the cabins were recognisable to the passengers. Small towns were covered in snow, the soft glow of lanterns outside their homes near the tracks were the only sight people could see from the waves of white sheets. Roman was walking down the cabin, to meet Remus in his room near the murder car. Both the brothers were rugged with heavy weight clothing to keep the chill off their skin, the chill shrilling their skin the further they walked through the train. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman had a stark white coat with a red vest and golden yellow bow tie. He waited for his brother outside, who eventually walked out with a brown and black fur coat, as well as a tattered green jacket and black long-sleeved shirt. Roman decided to not question it, as long as his younger brother was warm. From his left, he could spot Janus wearing his signature bowler’s hat, wearing a yellow jumper with a black robe trailing down to his knees. His monocle glinted like the key, and the burns of his face seemed darker than the light from the other side of his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for inviting me though,” Janus said. “I’m sure this will do wonders for my scoop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problemo J-anus. We just want to know what this mystery is. Onward we go to the treasure in this train.” Remus led the way to where Thomas’ cabin should be, except he was faced with a wall instead. “Guys, wasn’t there a door the last time we saw Thomas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this happened the last time I tried seeing the guy. I only reached your cabin before coming to a complete stop.” Roman tapped his finger to his chin, thinking of the difference between the both times he went to Thomas’ cabin and when he couldn’t find it. Then again, the door was open and stayed open for a while; Logan must’ve closed the door or any of the other workers during the span of the week. Janus stood from behind, writing notes of the small adventure he pulled the brothers into.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it might be a secret door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only one way to find out-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus kicked the wall in front of them, a hollow sound echoed and soon smirks graced on all their faces. Knocking on the door, Remus kicked where the hollow door closed, and jiggled the wall until it worked as a sliding door. Seemingly impressed, Remus tested the sliding door a few times and noticed the lack of a keyhole, or handle for the matter. It camouflaged well with the wall, and he beckoned the pair past the cart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That looked like a nice touch, if I had to say so myself.” He commented, closing it from behind him when everyone walked though. They continued venturing through the cabin, the air almost dropped in its chilly temperatures. There was no light breaking into the room, the curtains were drawn from the windows to cover the morning skies outside. It felt damp, the moisture in the air barely unbreathable and icy to touch. Both the brothers started to hum a tune to reassure themselves, while Janus tapped his pen on the book to calm himself from the atmosphere. They walked around the carriage, no sign of a treasure to be found inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cabin looked the same as the others, but Roman wasn’t sure if the icicles dripping from the constant lack of heat is a welcoming sight to walk into. Neither Janus or Remus seemed to mind, the both preoccupied with either their notepad or scoping for a keyhole to unlock a door with. The trio crept along the hallway until they heard a cheer from the journalist, pointing to a keyhole while urging the pair over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus held the key again, the clean stench of vomit and bile flooded their scents, although the metallic tinge of the silver mixed with the unbearable smell. Remus didn’t seem fazed compared to Roman who made retching sounds, or Janus who pinched his nose closed with his yellow gloved hands. Dancing the key from his hands, he tilted his head before huffing, shaking his head instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re both dramatic idiots, the key is cleaned-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roman snarled, interrupting him instead. “Clean? The key still smells like stomach.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because it came from a stomach dumbass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus and Roman uncovered their noses, raising their eyebrow in unison at the statement. Remus stared at them until he realised what he said, whistling to distract himself and hopefully his companions. He forgot he wasn’t meant to mention the fact he was involved with uncovering the body with Logan, or how they didn’t know as much about the murder as the detective. He gulped, waving their shocked faces away before inserting the key into the lock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was meant to be a clean insert into the lock, but Remus snarled when the key jiggled from its hole. He tried again before awkwardly chucking at the pair watching him in intent, shoving the key into its lock. He was sure he had the key, he had the key - it even smelled like the key.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t make sense, it’s the key- how would it not fit inside? Janus cleared his throat from Remus’ thoughts, flexing his hand before pointing to the key. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure this is the key?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes dick twister, this is the right key. Are you sure this is the right hole?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus sighed, grabbing the key from Remus to try himself. “This should be the lock because it’s the only lock in this cursed room.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Janus tried the key himself, his head hanging low when the key wouldn’t fit. Roman gently took the key from Janus to inspect himself, glancing to the minimal light in the room to properly note the key properly. It should look like a key, but soon he saw a mark that would claim a different key. Untying the ribbon that decorated the key, he could spot the engraved initials of ‘L.E.’ on the object - he realised this was Logan’s house key. He cursed under his breath and showed Remus what he saw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That Motherfuc- LOGAN FUCKING ESPIRIT-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A few days earlier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t like Logan didn’t have trust issues with the brothers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, it wasn’t like that at all. He could trust the brothers with any information he could give them, but he couldn’t trust their curious nature. They grew up to discover anything, especially Roman, who’s previous life of stealing meant he was always finding better worth. Perhaps it was the reason why their father never told either of them about a treasure, or risk telling anyone about the treasure. They’re all human, driven to a larger cause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for Logan- Logan had a different purpose, and that purpose was to find the criminal with minimal damage to his personal relationships. This case was a mess, if he had to be honest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The detective made his way to where Remus completed his autopsy report nearby the kitchen cart. The freezer inside the room was large enough to store a body, and a section of the kitchen itself was usually reserved as an extra room in case the dining room had too many guests. It was a perfect theatre room to conduct some form of surgery. He was satisfied with the detailed report Remus gave him, with facts that seemed accurate and the comprehensive notes he made on the pages. However, he wasn’t going to triple check Remus’ work yet (he would be doing that a little later after he came for something specific). Logan was going to replace something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The object jingled in his coat pocket, the pocket deep enough to hide his hands when necessary. It was also warm, the black wool warming Logan through the winter climate. Opening the doors to the kitchens, he nodded his head politely to the eyes that greeted him in the room. A worker unlocked the door to the ‘theatre room’, and Logan thanked him before stepping inside the icy room. Wisps of air floated around the chilly blue room, with different kinds of meat hanging above. He moved a little deeper into the room, landing his sight at a body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logan rubbed his hands together before reaching inside his pocket, the object quickly adjusted to the temperature of the room. He hissed from the metal key before huffing his breath onto his hands again, gaining some warmth to tie the ribbon around the key. His house key when he returned to France. The detective thought of two scenarios. The first would be Remus never took the key and the key would live inside the box Logan would hide in the time being to replace the real key, or, two, Remus would take the key and realise it wasn’t the right key and was in fact Logan’s house key. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He preferred the latter, since it also seemed to be the most likely scenario. Tying the worn, bile smelling ribbon onto the silver look a-like, Logan opened the box beside the corpse and hid the key inside. He quickly hid his hands inside his pockets again to keep warm, and left the freezer of the train. Now all he had to do was wait for Remus to take the bait, since he had a good idea of the next likely scenario. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-*-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Present day.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Emile, Logan and Virgil hid behind the corridor when the other trio strolled past them, discussing rooms and keys. Of course, Logan knew what the conversation was about due to his key-swapping earlier, and decided to wait until the brothers chewed his ears out later for swapping the object. At least he can take notes of what they were trying to find, or whether they have found the place the treasure would be kept and the swapped-key stopped them from venturing further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Virgil was consoling Emile from his distressed manner, and Logan squeezed out of their hiding place in order to see Emile clearly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emile, I trust your judgement, and your witness report would be grand for the case when it's filed.” He said. “However, I only need to collect a few more pieces of evidence before I can arrest Patton.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Arrest Patton? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That didn’t sit well in Logan’s stomach. Arresting Patton? Sure, maybe he did believe he had developed some feeling for the man, a friendly feeling no less. It just… </span>
  <em>
    <span>it didn’t feel right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The man seemed to innocent, too child-like to commit something so treacherous like a murder. Emile could sense the cogs turning inside the detective’s mind when he went quiet, most likely missing the questions that Virgil is trying to ask him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Logan,” Emile said. “I know what you’re thinking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do?” Logan asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes- and I know Patton doesn’t appear who he seemed to be. He might be happy and cheerful, and unlikely to kill,” Emile took a deep breath, phrasing his next words carefully. “But do know that Patton fought in the Great War- it’s what he told me at least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emile shuffled away from his hiding spot, clinging his hand over his cardigan jacket. “He told me he was a gunner in the Royal Air force. Logan, he knows how to kill people. Maybe not to kill for himself…” He trailed off, glancing away to where Patton should be in the dining room. “It’s like an instinct to protect. He just seems selfless, even though I saw him in days of distress or numb when Thomas died.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you trying to say Doc?” Virgil joined them both out of his hiding hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From a doctor point of view, Patton might still be experiencing Melancholy, because of the Great War. There are still studies developing this, but the symptoms are fairly clean because of the sudden loss. People like him tend to experience low days, but some people can still appear joyful to fight off suspicion. He fought in a war, Logan- I wouldn’t be surprised if he could switch his feelings like turning off a light bulb.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logan tapped his foot, the repetitive clicking of his shoes rhyming with his thoughts. “So you’re explaining how since he is experiencing the same illness as melancholy, he would be the killer? Emile, you out of all people should know how harmful it is to arrest someone because of a mental illness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, oh wait no that’s not what I mean-” Emile stammered, his face growing warm and his eyes averting from Logan’s gaze. “That’s not what I mean at all, oh god I shouldn’t explain better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calmed down his nerves, tilting his head while holding it with his palm. “Oh goodness that is not what I meant at all. I meant that Patton, without the illness, can still kill like any sane person. But, But…” He said. “Because of his past experience with feeling the- well, feelings, back at the Great War, and killing many people on a daily basis as a gunner, his experience would revert into this situation when Thomas died. Knowing the death, quickly grieving with the intense low moments, then being happy to hide the pain. Not that it’s the direct cause to murder someone. Observing how he acts, I can also say that it was heavily evident with his division or regiment too back then. To fight the pain by being happy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saying- let me process this first,” Virgil clapped his hands together, comprehending the sentences. “So Patton may be the murderer in this train, but because of his past experiences during the war, his grieving process with the victim is extremely quick and can be easily missed when not observing his actions because of what would regularly happen in the war?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the illness wouldn’t be the primary reason as to why he would kill? He would have a complete motive altogether, like if any other person in this train could kill someone for a stupid reason?” Virgil confirmed with the doctor, who nodded along. Logan leaned against the wall by then, feeling his leg give out because of his standing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think of Patton killing for his original intent, a conscious decision that was well planned out beforehand without any illness influencing the thoughts, but then the experience of feeling numb or low-energised is the ‘clean up’, despite not acting it out. It was a legitimate moment since the beginning since Thomas was a close friend to him and how distraught he was, but quickly recovering because of how often he saw death and the instinct to naturally recover quickly.” Logan was slowly piecing the thoughts together, sighing when it made sense in his brain. “Emile, you’re a confusing man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” He gave them both a sheepish grin. “Do you both understand now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Virgil nodded, piecing the information together. “He committed the stab, but because of the war years ago, he reverts back to the same quick melancholy cycle as if it were to be a friend who died in a battle and pretends he doesn’t grieve anymore with bad jokes and positivity? But if that’s the case, then why would he kill Thomas if he were to suffer again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emile stood straighter from his slouching figure, relaxed with the fact that the pair understood him. “Remember when I said he’s selfless?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” They both said together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how there’s something in this train, like a mystery thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both nodded along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what if he’s protecting this treasure, or protecting us from the treasure? He seems like a heavily driven moral man, so I wouldn’t be fazed if he believes in the concept of killing one person may save many others. Thomas was the keeper of the treasure, so maybe Patton had to… do that, in order to get to the mystery and properly protect it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logan then began strolling away back to his cabin to handle his notes, with both Emile and Virgil following him from behind as they continued to converse. He spoke out from Emile’s theory, reaching the next cabin with the other two. “Are you saying this ‘treasure’ is dangerous? Or so heavily secretive that someone like the government has to protect it? That doesn’t make sense- Patton is a mere librarian.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Logan, this is probably the same person who kills to survive and protect others, considering his behaviour. You wouldn’t be able to get to this train as a simple passenger either.” Emile said, glancing beside Virgil who began to hum in thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you’re not allowed on this train if you’re a simple passenger right? You have to be ‘invited’ by the boss or the twins. The boss invited Thomas for obvious reasons, well, protecting the key. The twins invited you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Thomas invited Janus into the train or if he was just accepted because he’s a frequent visitor and loyal companion for the train line, even if it kills me to admit it," Virgil muttered the last part under his breath. "So what the heck is Patton doing here then?” He asked the pair. “You can’t get in if you're someone like a librarian, and I doubt Thomas would’ve invited him personally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Moustached man said Thomas Sanders, right? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“A ticket raffle maybe?” Logan unlocked the door to his room, stepping in to grab his belongings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was no ticket raffle. The boss made sure not to give out tickets without his authority because of the mystery thing. He was strict about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The detective collected his things- a book in one hand and a camera with the other. He gave the camera to Virgil, and held a hand on Emile’s shoulder. Logan looked down to Emile, giving him a soft smile for reassurance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emile, thank you for contributing to this mess of a murder. It was not easy to voice your opinions and the circumstances, but I will find a way to find the man who killed Thomas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emile sniffled, covering his face as he rubbed his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want justice for Thomas. He never deserved this, not this once.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>w e l l </p><p>There are good news and bad news...?</p><p>Lol the good news is that there's another story finally being written (currently with 12 chapters as we speak)</p><p>The bad news? There's no more chapters written for Railway to Misfortune. Does this mean the story will be discontinued? No, especially with how the plot is going at the moment. Would this mean there's any updates for it? We'll have to see. The schedule died because of this, and I do apologise for that. It just means it'll have to update whenever it could (and hopefully with spare chapters alongside it).</p><p>Anyway, the good news still exists and another story will come out soon :D (when I say soon, I mean like 2 weeks)-</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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